Mean Streets
by Violette
Summary: Ezra and Vin are teenage runaways, who encounter the men of ATF Team Seven. ****** It seems FFN has stripped my punctuation, so until I can fix it, you can read this on my site at www-dot-uplinktech-dot-net-/violette *remove the '-'* ******
1. Chapter 1

**Mean Streets**

**Part 1**

* * *

AU - based on ATF Universe 

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own them. I'm just taking them out to play for a while. 

**Warnings: **violence, language, attempted sexual assault 

**Rating:**** R**

**Genre: **gen, h/c, angst 

**Summary: ** Ezra and Vin are teenage runaways, who run afoul of the men of Team Seven.

**Acknowledgements: **Thanks to my betas Axianna, and Katherine. Thanks also to Angela and Twylajane for their critique, and to MOG for creating this wonderful universe for us to play in. 

**Notes: ** I'd like to keep this AU closed, for now, since I have some back story I'd like to finish before anyone else decides to dabble. 

* * *

* * * * * * * * * * 

It was a cool morning.  Fourteen-year-old Ezra Standish shivered and wrapped his arms around himself as he walked quickly along the sidewalk.  The days were growing colder and he would soon need to acquire some warmer clothing.  Ever alert, he spotted a police cruiser turning the corner and ducked into the nearest alley, hiding behind a dumpster until it had passed.  After a quick check of the street, Ezra resumed his journey.

It was his turn to help out at Rosie's Diner, and though Ezra hated getting up early to be there at five AM, he hated starving even more.  The worst part was that Vin would be wide awake long before he returned with their breakfast, not taking advantage of the opportunity to sleep in, as Ezra would have done.  With a shake of his head over his friend's strange penchant for rising early, Ezra pushed open the door, greeting the proprietor with a smile.

Good morning, Mrs. Milburn, Ezra said cheerfully.

Ezra, dear, Rosie Milburn said with a smile.  You're early.  

Well, don't get used to it, Ezra said, flashing a mischievous grin.  

Oh, you wise guy, you. She swatted him with her dish towel and shooed him toward the kitchen.

Ezra chuckled as he grabbed a mop and bucket to wash the floors.  He and Vin had met Rosie shortly after their arrival in Denver nearly two years earlier.  The stocky woman had found them sleeping behind the diner one cold morning, wedged between the building and a big dumpster.  She had immediately grabbed each of them by the scruff of the neck and hauled them inside before they fully awoke.  The two twelve-year-olds had been afraid that she was going to turn them over to the police, but she had instead made them an offer.  In exchange for helping her ready the diner for opening each morning, she would give them each a hearty breakfast and a few dollars a week.  It was a deal they readily accepted.

Rosie had never questioned them about why they were living on the streets, and they never asked why she was helping them, but they had seen something in her eyes that told them she had seen a few hard times herself.  Whatever the reason, they both appreciated having good food to eat and a few dollars to put aside for necessities, making sure to do as much as they could to help the kindly woman.  

As he washed the floor, Ezra thought about the other things Rosie had done for them.  As if it wasn't enough that she fed them and gave them money, she had also persuaded the owners of the hardware store, the beauty parlor, the flower shop, and the Italian restaurant down the street to help them out as well.  He and Vin took turns sweeping and dusting the hardware store before its nine AM opening time, and cleaning the beauty and flower shops before they closed for the day.  Later in the evening, they helped to close the restaurant by cleaning tables and doing dishes.  In exchange, they were both paid a small amount of wages by each of the business owners and were allowed to eat their fill of the restaurant's leftovers each night.  They also got free haircuts during slow times at the beauty parlor. 

The work wasn't easy, but he and Vin both preferred working to earn their way as opposed to stealing or resorting to other, less pleasant ways of making money.  Ezra shuddered, remembering the time they had nearly been shot by a gun-wielding shop owner, who was upset that they had stolen some bread and peanut butter from his store.  They had also been approached more than once by unsavory men interested in their services.'  He and Vin had both decided that anything, even returning to foster care, was better than that particular option. 

Ezra gave a sad smile as he thought about what his mother would say if she saw how he was living.  Appearances are everything, she would say; or his personal favorite: Gentlemen don't perform menial labor.  He snorted.  Menial labor it might be, but it was far better than the alternatives.  And he wasn't exactly a gentleman.  Shaking thoughts of his mother away, Ezra continued his work, looking forward to the breakfast that would be forthcoming.  

* * * * * * * * * * 

Vin awoke slowly, stretching out the kinks in his back as he sat up on the mattress.  Looking at the clock, which sat on a small cardboard box near the bed, he noted with surprise that it was a little after six AM.  He usually woke up by five-thirty most mornings, much to Ezra's chagrin.  With a smile, he realized that Ezra would be returning from the diner soon with their breakfast.  Rosie was a great cook and Vin liked everything that she made for them.  Though, even if he hadn't liked her cooking, it was still better than dumpster-diving for a meal.  He shuddered, remembering the times he and Ezra had been forced to do just that.  Thanks to Rosie, they had not had to resort to living off of other people's trash for a long time.

A faint scratching sound at the door told him that Ezra had returned.  Quickly, he raced to unlock the deadbolt, but Ezra was faster, picking the lock before he could reach the door.  Grinning at his best friend, Vin ushered him inside and shut the door behind him.

What we got today, Ez?  He looked eagerly at the big bag his friend was carrying.

Ezra began, lifting the plastic containers out of the bag and setting them on the small, beat-up table that graced their basement living quarters.  Extra syrup for you, and some bacon and eggs for both of us.

Vin said, opening his container eagerly.

Ezra pulled out a chair and started in on his own breakfast.  Their apartment was actually a small, unused basement under an antique store that had closed almost two years earlier, after its proprietor, the elderly Mr. Weatherly, had suffered a stroke and been forced to move into a nursing home.  The area wasn't exactly a hotbed of commercial activity and the store had remained vacant.  Since they had never seen an owner visit the property, and had been able to remain in the basement, safe and undiscovered, they assumed the property had an absentee landlord.  It wasn't until they had been living there for several months that they learned that Mr. Watson, who ran the hardware store, actually owned both the building that housed his business and the one in which they were currently residing.  

The two boys had found the empty room when they ducked behind the building in an attempt to hide from a gang of older kids that had been giving them a hard time, stealing their food and chasing them out of their sleeping spots.  After investigating the place and making sure it was free from vermin and other unwelcome inhabitants, Ezra had taught Vin to pick the lock on the door and they had moved in.  Later, they had replaced the existing deadbolt with one purchased at the hardware store, so they would have keys to use.  They still occasionally picked the lock, just to keep in practice.

It was a dark space, graced with only one small window that they usually kept covered to hide their presence.  Light was provided courtesy of a single electrical outlet that remained active.  The shop above them might have been vacant, but its two neighboring shops – having separate basement areas, but sharing the same building – housed working businesses.  Both boys were too wary of fire to use open flames unless it was absolutely necessary, so any cooking they might do was done on a hot plate.  A small electric space heater stood in the corner, ready to be used once the nights turned cold.

They had also accumulated some furniture during their time living there.  An old table and chairs that they had found in the trash and repaired had been the first of their furnishings, Ezra stating that it made him feel a bit more human to be able to sit somewhere other than the floor.  The queen-sized mattress that they shared had been their next acquisition.  It had been given to them by Mr. Watson, who claimed the mattress was lumpy and bad for his back, but they both found it to be very comfortable.  The man had never admitted to knowing where they were living, but both Ezra and Vin figured that he was aware of it and was simply looking out for them unobtrusively.  Not wanting to abuse the generosity, they made sure to take good care of their living quarters.

There was a tiny utility sink in one corner of the room that still worked, so they had a ready supply of water.  Their blankets, pillows, clothing, and other necessities had either been given to them or purchased inexpensively from the local Salvation Army store.  They didn't have much clothing, but they took care of what they did own, keeping them clean by washing them in the sink and, occasionally, taking a trip to the laundromat.

Each of the boys had a small backpack and a box that contained personal items – what little they had been able to keep with them after running away from the abusive foster home where they had been staying.

Vin looked around his home and figured they had it pretty good compared to most of the other folks living on the streets. 

Ezra sipped the hot coffee gratefully, still chilled from being outside.  

Vin noticed the involuntary shiver and frowned.  Cold, Ez?

It's a bit chilly outside this morning, Ezra admitted.

Guess we need to get some new stuff, Vin said with a sigh.  Each of them had grown substantially since the previous winter and the heavy coats they had worn had been too small even then.  There was no way they would get another winter out of the garments.

Ezra agreed.  We are both in need of some new clothing.  He stuck a leg out, displaying pants that were several inches too short.

Vin chuckled, though his own clothes did not fit any better.  Yeah, guess it's time.

This afternoon? Ezra inquired.

Vin said.  After story hour.

Ezra smiled.  Each day, after their morning work was done, they would meet at the library and spend the day reading, studying, and working on the computers.  The head librarian, Ms. Peterson, didn't mind their daily presence, since Vin usually helped with shelving books and Ezra would spend some time doing magic tricks and reading stories to the younger kids during the daily children's story hour.  They kept to themselves, otherwise, so Ms. Peterson didn't see any reason to make them leave.

Vin finished his breakfast quickly, then washed out the plastic container in the sink.  Ezra finished shortly after and did the same, so they could return the containers to Rosie before the end of the day.  

I was thinking about taking the bedding to the laundromat this morning, Ezra said.  

Okay.  I'll drop these, Vin held up the breakfast containers, at Rosie's on my way to the hardware store.

After you, Ezra said, gesturing toward the door after he gathered up the sheets and blankets from their bed and stuffed them in a trash bag.  He and Vin checked out the window to assure that no one was loitering in front of their home, then stepped outside, locking the door behind them.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Vin finished at the hardware store and returned to their basement home to wait for Ezra, who had not yet returned from the laundromat.  While he waited, he retrieved some money from the locked strongbox they had hidden in one of the ventilation ducts that ran through the basement.  They were very careful to protect their funds, saving as much as possible for their future plans to attend college.

Vin was quite proud of the fact that they had managed to save nearly twenty-three thousand dollars so far.  They made sure to keep the money hidden and to avoid speaking of it in public, since their lives would be worth little if word got out about their stash.  It might have seemed incongruous for them to have that much money, considering their lifestyle, but both boys were determined to acquire the funds they would need to assure a future off of the streets.  They had both seen too much despair and too many wasted lives to allow themselves to become just another statistic.  Ezra had regaled Vin with tales of some of the places he had traveled, and Vin was determined that he would see them someday.  

Ezra would have liked to invest their money, put it in a bank account, or at least leave it in a safety deposit box, but they were both minors and were unable to do that without some form of adult guardian's consent.  Their trust had been betrayed by adults too many times before to trust anyone, even well-meaning people like Rosie, with knowledge of their cache of funds.  So they hid it carefully instead, only spending it on necessities, like the clothing they would need for the upcoming winter.  The money was too important for their future to do otherwise.

Only part of the money was earned with their odd jobs.  The rest, Ezra had earned in illicit poker games in which he participated at some of the local bars.  He was an excellent player and won more often than not.  On one occasion, he had brought home over three thousand dollars in winnings.  Vin didn't like him playing poker, afraid his best friend would be hurt at the hands of a sore loser, but he understood it was necessary to earn as much money as possible if they ever hoped to improve their lives.  

Ezra was always careful not to play too often, wanting to avoid a reputation that might endanger his health.  He had run afoul of some sore losers once before, prior to meeting up with Vin.  That incident had left him with several broken ribs and a stab wound to his side, landing him in the hospital and under the scrutiny of Social Services once again.  It had been that incident that sent him to the same foster home as Vin.  After witnessing those injuries, Vin was determined that it wouldn't happen again and had extracted a promise from Ezra to be careful with his gambling.

Vin's reverie was interrupted by Ezra's return with their laundry. He helped his friend put the freshly laundered bedding back on the mattress.  It wasn't a big thing, but there was something especially comforting about being able to sleep on clean sheets.

The Y today, Ez? Vin inquired after they had finished with the bedding.

We went to the youth center last time, Ezra said with a shrug.  He and Vin alternated between the YMCA and a youth center run by some Catholic priests, stopping in to shower every couple of days.  Ezra, in particular, hated to be dirty.  He had not talked of it much, but the southerner had once mentioned an uncle' who had punished him by locking him in a filthy, rat-infested cellar.  It was also the probable reason for his tendency toward neatness and his insistence that they keep their apartment clean.  Vin didn't mind a little dirt, but found he couldn't disagree with his friend's reasoning.  

It did feel much better to be clean, and by alternating between the two facilities, they didn't draw as much attention to themselves.  There were usually other teenagers around, since both places allowed local schools that were short on gym space to use their facilities.  Both also had many after-school programs, and they found it easy to simply blend in with the crowds of other kids in the locker room, everyone assuming that they belonged there.  Even if someone had known the truth, the staff at both places were aware of the difficulties of life on the street, and thus inclined to look the other way.

Ezra and Vin stuffed their towels and other shower necessities in their backpacks in preparation for their trip to the YMCA later in the afternoon, then made their way to the library.  The library building was a twenty-five minute walk from their home, but neither of them minded, enjoying the opportunity to get some exercise.  The day was slowly getting warmer, but there was still a definite chill in the air, reinforcing their decision to buy some warm clothes later that day.

Good morning, boys. Ms. Peterson, waved to them as they entered.

Morning, ma'am, Vin said politely.

Good morning, Ms. Peterson, Ezra said.

Getting cold out there, isn't it? she said, looking at their ill-fitting, threadbare clothing with concern.

Yes ma'am, Vin agreed.  We're gonna buy some warmer stuff later today.

Will you be here for story hour?  Ms. Peterson looked to Ezra in inquiry.

Yes, ma'am, Ezra replied with a smile.  We shall entertain the little ones before we attend to our shopping.  He would never admit it, but he truly enjoyed reading to the young children.  The look in their eyes as they became immersed in the story he was telling made him feel like he was doing something truly worthwhile.  He only wished that someone had taken the time to do the same for him when he was a child.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Paula Peterson watched as the children gathered around the green-eyed teenager, eager for the tale he would bring to life this day.  She smiled, thinking about how some of the parents had reacted the first time Ezra had shown up to read to the children.  They had been suspicious, wondering why two teenaged boys like Ezra and Vin would spend so much time in the library instead of participating in the kinds of after-school activities in which boys their age usually indulged.  They were concerned why Ezra in particular would want to spend so much time with the younger children.  Most teenagers wouldn't be caught dead in the library, hanging around with little kids, unless forced to by their parents or teachers.  

Paula had fabricated a story that the boys were volunteering at the library after school in order to avoid the gangs in their neighborhood, and invited the parents to stay and watch the story sessions with their children.  After observing Ezra's animated storytelling and experiencing both boys' courteous behavior, the questions and suspicions had dwindled.  In fact, the boys had instead found themselves the target of motherly fussing and concern, much to their chagrin.

As she often did, Paula wondered what had happened to bring two such intelligent, well-mannered boys into such a sad situation.  She had always had a soft spot for children, especially those to whom life had dealt an unfair hand.  This wasn't the first time she had made a special effort to help the homeless children she encountered.  In the past, she had often allowed some of them to spend the day in the library when the weather was particularly unpleasant, but until these two, she had never allowed any of them to stay in her library for extended periods of time.  

Ezra and Vin were special.  She had seen it the first time they had entered the library, when they had immediately raced to help her pick up the stack of books that had spilled from her cart as she attempted to return them to the shelves.  They were always polite and helpful, spending their time hard at work with the books, instead of fooling around and making noise like most kids their age would have done.  It had baffled her, since most teenagers barely looked beyond the next weekend.  

Ezra had explained their diligence once, after she had given in to her curiosity and asked why they were studying so hard.  _Far too many of those living on the streets, die an early and unlamented death,_ he had said.  _And Vin and I do not intend to be among them.  Given our current situation, an education is our only chance to avoid such an ignominious end._  

Paula could find no fault in his logic, despite being surprised that he had such a clear grasp of his circumstances.  He and Vin were wise beyond their years, and were the most intense and driven teenagers she had ever encountered.  She figured that living on the streets made them grow up faster than most, and she admired them for their efforts, helping them along as much as possible.  

Having once worked as a high school teacher, it had become apparent to her after observing them that they were both highly intelligent.  Further investigation – spurred by her observation of Vin using a piece of paper or a ruler to mark the sentences he was reading – had revealed that Vin was moderately dyslexic, and she had made a special effort to point out books on the subject that would help the boy in his studies.  Much to her surprise, though, both boys had already made use of those books.  Paula had simply shaken her head in exasperation.  She should have known those two would be one step ahead of her.

Ezra seemed to have had an excellent education at some point, while Vin had encountered some difficulties in learning due to his dyslexia.  She suspected that Ezra could have passed the high school equivalency exam, had he chosen to take it, but he was apparently waiting until Vin was ready before doing so.  Given their intelligence and dedication to their studies, she believed it would not take them long to reach that goal.

When things were busy in the library, the boys would often help her out, shelving and checking in returned books, while she was occupied with the other patrons.  In return, she allowed them to stay as long as they liked and often assisted in their studies during quieter periods, giving them whatever textbooks she could find.  The rest of the women on the library staff liked the boys as well, often bringing them home-baked cookies and other treats, insisting that they were too skinny.   Paula laughed to herself, remembering the indignant and embarrassed expressions they would affect at such a pronouncement.

It saddened her that these two good-natured boys were forced to live on the streets, but she was heartened by their efforts to better themselves and to keep from falling into the drugs and crime that trapped so many in their situation.  They often discussed their plans to go to college as soon as they became legal adults, and Paula Peterson had no doubt that they would succeed.  As such, she intended to do everything in her power to help them get there.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Vin watched as Ezra read Cinderella to the group of attentive children, changing his voice for each of the characters.  The children were still and silent, totally enthralled with the story.  Even the parents seemed to be taken in by the tale being woven by the teenager.

...and they lived happily ever after, Ezra said, closing the book with a flourish.  

Vin would never admit it, but he enjoyed listening to the stories as much as the children seated around him.  Ezra had a way of bringing the characters to life, and anyone could see how much he was enjoying himself.  The kids adored his talented friend and always looked forward to story hour with him.

Ezra made his way toward him, stopping to talk with some of the children and parents along the way.  Finally, the crowd dissipated, leaving the two of them standing beside Ms. Peterson.

That was wonderful, Ezra, Ms. Peterson said.  You have quite a gift with children.

Ezra shrugged, a faint blush stealing across his face at the praise. 

Vin grinned and nudged his friend.  You ready to go shoppin'?

Ezra nodded.  Most definitely.

You boys make sure you get some warm coats, you hear? Ms. Peterson instructed.  

Will do, ma'am, Vin said.

Vin and Ezra gathered their jackets and backpacks and headed back outside, waving at Ms. Peterson as they left.  Their first stop was the YMCA building, where they both indulged in long, hot showers.  Once they were finished, they headed for the Salvation Army store, which was located eleven blocks from their home, situated in the ground-level storefront of a dilapidated apartment building.  When they arrived, there were only a couple of customers browsing through the racks and piles of clothing.  

Where shall we start? Ezra asked.

Vin shrugged, then looked down at his too-short pants.  Grimacing, he remembered being teased at school when he was younger for wearing high-waters.'  He nodded firmly to himself.  

Ezra nodded and the two of them made their way to the stacks of pants on one side of the store.  They both wore the same size, and after digging through the piles, they were able to find four pairs of jeans in decent condition.  From there, they moved on to the shirt racks, choosing warm sweatshirts and flannel button-down shirts for the cooler weather to come.

Could use some new socks, too, Vin remarked.  Mine all have holes.

Ezra chuckled.  Mine, too.

They picked out some decent-looking athletic socks, then moved to the racks of coats.  The selection was extensive, since the weather hadn't turned cold enough for most customers of the store to consider warmer clothing as of yet.  Vin found a dark blue coat that appealed to him, despite it being a little too big.  I'll grow into it before long, he told Ezra.  For his part, Ezra chose a black anorak with a zip-out lining.  Both avoided bright colors that might draw unwanted attention.

All together, the clothing only cost them seventy-six dollars, less than the one hundred dollars they had budgeted, so they decided to buy some warm hiking boots that would come in handy during the snowy winter months.  Their current footwear was too small, anyway, and it wouldn't be long before they would be unable to wear them at all.

Gathering their selections together, they brought them to the counter, where Ezra paid the gray-haired woman who worked there.  Before stepping outside the store, they stuffed most of the clothes into their small backpacks, leaving only the coats and boots in the shopping bag.  In their neighborhood, it wasn't wise to advertise any new acquisitions.  People had been killed simply because someone else wanted their shoes.

* * * * * * * * * * 

The floor was swept and the windows were spotless.  Ezra finished wiping the counter of the flower shop with a smile.

All finish? Mrs. Chan, the petite Chinese woman who ran the shop asked in her softly accented voice.

Yes, ma'am, Ezra replied.  

You a good boy, Ezra, she said, reaching up to pat his cheek as she bustled into the back of the shop.

Ezra blushed, collecting his cleaning supplies.  He followed behind the small woman, stowing the things in the tiny closet in the back room.

she said, thrusting a few bills into his hand.  You buy food for you and Vin.

Yes, ma'am, Ezra said, smiling as he tucked the money into his pocket.  Mrs. Chan was always insisting that he and Vin didn't eat enough.  

Ezra waited until Mrs. Chan was through closing up the shop, then escorted her to her car before leaving to meet up with Vin.  Twice a week, the library was open late, and the two of them would usually spend some more time there after their evening chores' were finished.  On the other evenings, they would go to the youth center, which was located several blocks away from the library.  There, they would work out using the gym facilities and would practice the martial arts and boxing they had picked up during the past few years.  Living on the streets could be dangerous, and both boys knew the value of being able to defend themselves.

Walking past one of the many abandoned buildings in the area, Ezra spotted a group of young men coming toward him on the opposite side of the street.  he muttered to himself, looking around quickly for a place to hide.  

They were a group of homeless kids not much older than him and Vin, who spent their time selling drugs for a lowlife drug dealer named Jerry MacDermott.  The man had approached both Ezra and Vin repeatedly, wanting them to join his little group.  Both had refused, not only because they wanted nothing to do with drugs, but also because they didn't like the way he looked at them.  Ezra hated the way the greasy man would leer at them, making suggestive comments whenever he had the chance.  He knew what the man wanted and had no intention of letting him get it.

That in mind, Ezra ducked into the alley next to the empty brick building, concealing himself in a doorway until the group passed him by.  After ten minutes, Ezra figured it was safe enough to leave.  He slipped out of the doorway and headed back toward the street, only to be stopped by a pair of hands grabbing his shoulders. 

Ezra, my boy, came the deep voice behind him.  

_Oh shit._  A shiver of dread raced down his spine.  Ezra swallowed hard and turned around, coming face to face with Jerry MacDermott.  Mr. MacDermott, Ezra said calmly, attempting to sound cordial and unperturbed, despite the fact that his heart was racing a mile a minute.

Where's your pretty little friend? MacDermott said, running his eyes lasciviously over Ezra's body.

He's around, Ezra said blandly, not wanting to reveal too much.

Why don't you come with us? MacDermott said smoothly, taking Ezra's arm in a firm grip.  I'd like to talk to you.

I have a previous engagement, Ezra said, trying to extract his arm from the tight grip.

MacDermott laughed, turning to some of his associates.  I just love the way this southern boy talks.  Sounds like them highfalutin' types on public television.

The group laughed along with him as they hustled Ezra down the street.

Let go of me, Ezra said, starting to struggle.

I don't think so, MacDermott said, smiling in a way that made Ezra nauseous.  They dragged him along with them into the building.  Ezra fought against the hands gripping his arms, using every dirty trick he knew, but it was a futile effort.  He quickly realized that he was in big trouble.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Chris Larabee called to his old friend.

Yes, master? Buck said with a smirk as he strode through the door of Chris's office.

Chris rolled his eyes at his agent's antics.  I got a call from Digger Bowen.  Says he has something interesting to tell me.

Buck snorted.  He probably needs money to buy that cheap booze he likes.

Chris shrugged.  I don't know, but he sounded kind of excited.

You want backup?

Chris said.  He wants to meet at that old shoe factory on Shaw St.

Buck groaned.  Another abandoned building.

No unwanted company in most of those places, Chris pointed out. That's why the bad guys like em so much.

'Cept for the odd homeless person, Buck remarked.  Remember that bag lady that got caught in the crossfire during the Martell bust?

Chris nodded grimly.  He remembered the incident all too well, having been one of the agents who found the elderly woman while rounding up the bad guys.  You comin'?

Lead on, big dog. Buck grinned, gesturing toward the door with a flourish.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Vin eyed the clock with a frown.  Ezra should have been back half an hour ago.  It wasn't like him to be late, and Vin was starting to get a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.  Something was wrong.  

After dropping off their purchases at the apartment, he and Ezra had gone to the beauty parlor and flower shop, respectively, to do their daily cleaning jobs.  Neither of them liked to carry money around, since it was too tempting a target for thieves, so they had planned to meet back at their place to drop off their pay before heading to the youth center to work out.  But Ezra was late.  With a worried frown, Vin picked up the baseball bat that stood in the corner of the basement room.  After a quick check out the window to make sure the coast was clear,  he headed out the door to find his friend.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Retracing one of  Ezra's possible routes from the flower shop brought Vin past an old brick factory building.  They were both wary of the place, since it was a haven for drug pushers and other criminals, and neither of them wanted to be involved with any of that.  They usually hurried past the building anyway, but if they saw people hanging around the crumbling structure, they would avoid it entirely, taking a different, longer route home.  

As he walked along, Vin heard the faint sound of laughter coming from inside the old factory.  Debating with himself for a moment, Vin finally decided to check it out.  Quietly, he slipped into the alley beside the building, making his way to a locked door.  Using the lockpicks Ezra had fashioned for him, he rapidly picked the lock, mentally thanking his friend for teaching him that skill.

Inside, the voices grew louder.  Vin crept along the piles of junk that were stacked all over the interior of the building, making his way toward the light he could see in front of him.  As he peeked around a stack of old machinery, he froze at the sound of Ezra's voice.

Let me go, Ezra pleaded, his voice breaking.  I assure you, I won't tell anyone.

In front of him Vin saw Jerry MacDermott manhandling Ezra.  His friend was bent over an old crate, his arms pinned behind him, while MacDermott fumbled to undo his pants.  Vin felt his blood boil and without thinking, jumped out into the open with a yell, swinging the bat toward the drug dealer.  The bat crashed solidly into the arm MacDermott had raised to block the blow.  MacDermott screamed and grabbed his broken forearm, staggering away from Ezra.

You okay, Ez? Vin asked, his voice betraying his fears.

I... I'm... fine, Ezra replied shakily.

MacDermott growled and started toward Vin, but the angry teenager was not in the mood to be generous.  Whirling around, he slammed the bat down hard on MacDermott's knee, then turned and landed another blow on his unprotected side.  The resulting crunch made Ezra wince as the drug dealer collapsed in a pitiful, crying heap.

Ezra pleaded.  Let's go.

Get goin', Ez, Vin said without moving his eyes from the whimpering drug dealer.  I'm right behind ya.  He turned back to MacDermott. You fuckin' slimy bastard!  You come near me or Ez ever again and you'll find out what else I can do with this bat.

Ezra hesitated, then nodded, backing away from the scene, while Vin continued to yell and threaten MacDermott, warning him to keep away from them.  He turned to open the side door just as a pair of men burst through the front door with guns.

ATF! Freeze!

Drop the bat, son, the dark-haired man ordered.  

Turning to face the intruders, Vin waved the bat at the new threat, stopping only at the sight of the guns being pointed in his direction.  

Come on, now.  Just put the bat down, the dark-haired man said in a steely voice.

Vin forced himself not to look at Ezra, nodding faintly as he slowly put the bat on the ground.  Ezra, hidden from the agents' view by the piles of junk, quickly ducked into a small gap in the tangled stacks of machinery, tucking himself out of sight as the men approached his friend.

**TBC**

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Mean Streets**

**Part 2**

* * *

* * * * * * * * * * 

Buck and Chris pulled up in front of the old building, eyeing the group of teenagers loitering in front of the place.  The teens, in turn, watched warily as they stepped from the vehicle.  The moment both of them were visible to the group, someone yelled,   The group immediately scattered in several different directions.

What the hell? Buck muttered, pulling his weapon as he scanned the area.

Let's find out.  Chris drew his own gun and the two approached the door, swinging it open.  Inside, they heard yelling and cursing, intermingled with crying and screams of pain.

Sharing a look, the two men took off at a run, calling out a warning to whoever was inside.  To their surprise, they found a grown man lying on the dirty floor, blubbering like a baby, while a teenager stood over him, waving a baseball bat threateningly and cursing.  The man on the floor was whimpering in pain, clutching his arm tightly to his body.  The teenager was red-faced with fury as he spouted a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush, gesturing with his baseball bat for emphasis.  

Buck and Chris drew closer, unnoticed by both the of the parties, until they stood a mere ten feet away.

Drop the bat, son, Buck ordered, getting the attention of the angry boy, who had a look on his face that bordered on feral.  The boy took a step toward him, lifting the bat as if preparing to attack.  Come on, now.  Just put the bat down.

The kid, upon seeing their guns, looked up in confusion.  He stared at them in alarm, then complied with their demands, slowly placing that bat on the floor and raising his hands in submission.  

Chris approached the young man, unsurprised at the defiance he saw radiating from the blue eyes.  Step over here, kid.

The boy silently did as he was instructed, moving to stand in front of Chris.  Eyeing him warily, Chris searched him, finding no other weapons except for a Swiss Army knife in his back pocket.  The kid looked longingly at the knife for a moment before returning his gaze to Chris's face.

Turn around.

There was a flicker of fear in the boy's eyes before he reluctantly did as he was told.  Chris took his wrists, snapping the cuffs on gently.  The boy stiffened, a tremor running through him before he turned around, eyes firmly on Chris once again.

Gonna need an ambulance for this guy, Buck called to him from his position next to the whimpering man.  Better call the PD, too.  This guy has enough drugs on him to stock his own pharmacy.

Chris made the appropriate calls, keeping his eyes on the boy, who was trying not to look frightened.

What's your name, kid? Buck asked, sidling up next to the boy, who completely ignored him.  He sighed.  Okay, be that way.  He turned to Chris.  I'm gonna check this place out.

Chris scrutinized the boy standing before him.  He didn't look quite like the usual street kids.  His hair was down to his shoulders but it was clean, as were his clothes.  That alone was different from the kids they usually encountered in places like this, and Chris was curious to find out who he was and what he was doing there.

Want to tell me what's going on? Chris asked him.

The boy just continued to stare at him.

Aw hell! Buck's angry voice came from the far side of the building.

What is it, Buck?

I found Digger, Buck said sadly.  He's dead, Chris.

* * * * * * * * * *

His heart still pumping wildly, Vin studied the blond cop, wondering what ATF agents were doing in this place.  As far as he knew, MacDermott and his crew dealt drugs, not guns, so there was no reason for the ATF to be there.  He admitted to himself that he was a little pissed that they had interrupted before he could finish with MacDermott.  There were a few more things he wanted to say to that scumbag... and a few more shots with the bat he would have liked to dispense.  He stifled a smile at the sound of the drug dealer whimpering behind him.  After what he had tried to do to Ezra, Vin had no sympathy for him.  In all the confusion, he had lost track of Ezra, and he hoped his friend had gotten away clean.  It was bad enough that he was in custody without the other boy getting dragged into it as well.  

Vin's wandering mind snapped back to reality with the dark-haired cop's announcement that Digger was dead.  He felt a pang of sadness at that, and knew Ezra would, too.  Digger Bowen had been a drunk, but he was an affable man who never hurt anyone.  He had even helped him and Ezra when they first came to Denver, pointing out the people and places to avoid when looking for somewhere to crash for the night.

Vin looked back at the blond and found the man watching him with interest.  He mentally kicked himself, realizing that he must have reacted when the other guy mentioned Digger.  Masking his reactions was one skill he had not completely mastered, unlike Ezra, who had the best poker face he had ever seen.

You know something about what happened to Digger? the blond asked suspiciously.

Vin pondered the question, then shook his head.

Whatever the man was going to say next was interrupted by the entrance of the ambulance crew, followed by the police.  Looking regretfully toward the door he had used to enter the building, Vin's eyes widened in surprise when he saw Ezra's green eyes staring out from between some old pipes.  Giving a minute shake of his head, he turned back to watch the activity, hoping that Ezra would be able to get away.

Come on, kid, the blond growled, grasping his upper arm.  I've got a few questions for you.

* * * * * * * * * *

The building was crawling with police and Ezra feared his hiding place would soon be discovered.  But the police were concentrating on MacDermott and the body of Digger Bowen, paying little heed to the area where he was hiding.  He sighed softly.  The old man had been nice to them and wouldn't have hurt a fly.  He didn't deserve to die like an animal in a filthy old building like this.

Ezra's fists clenched when he thought about what that slug, MacDermott, had done.  

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

_MacDermott dragged him inside the building, one hand twisting Ezra's arm behind him, the other roaming over his body.  It was all too clear what his intentions were, and Ezra felt his stomach clench in fear.  The drug dealer ordered his group of flunkies out, so he could have some privacy.  The teenagers left, snickering at what MacDermott had planned.  He had just started grabbing at Ezra's clothes, when he was interrupted by the drunken entrance of Digger Bowen._

_Get out of here, Digger! MacDermott commanded.  This ain't your concern._

_Leave im Digger said, swaying slightly as he approached.  You're a no good bum, MacDermott._

_And you're a fuckin' drunk! In his frustration, he yanked on Ezra's arm, roughly jerking it up behind him._

_Ezra yelped as something in his shoulder popped and a flash of pain shot through him.  Digger moved toward him, presumably to help._

_I won't tell you again, Digger, MacDermott warned.  Get your ass out of here.  _

_You're gonna get yours, you dirt bag, Digger said, shaking his finger at MacDermott.  I'm tellin' the cops about those guns you been stashin' at the old grocery store._

_MacDermott went strangely silent and turned to Digger.  What did you say?_

_Digger, in his drunken haze, continued to taunt the dangerous man.  I called a cop buddy o mine.  He'll put your ass in jail, just you wait._

_You stupid son of a bitch! MacDermott snarled.  Who did you talk to?_

_Digger didn't seem to hear him, babbling on about MacDermott going to jail._

_Big mistake, Digger, MacDermott said menacingly.  In one quick move, he had pulled a gun and fired it at the old man.  _

_Digger looked up at him in surprise as a red spot blossomed on his chest.  Without another word, he toppled over backward, raising a cloud of dust when he hit the dirty floor.  _

_Several of MacDermott's gang rushed back into the building at the sound of the gunshot.  _

_Lose this.  MacDermott handed the gun to one of the boys, who nodded and took off at a run.  And get that out of my sight. He gestured to Digger's body and immediately, two of the boys hurried to drag it out of view behind some junk.  Once that was done, he dismissed his minions again and turned back to Ezra, grinning lasciviously.  Now, where were we.  He shoved Ezra over a crate and grabbed his buttocks, squeezing them suggestively._

_Ezra panicked, and started pleading with MacDermott to release him.  That was when Vin made his startling entrance._

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Ezra sighed, his heart still pounding with fear.  It wasn't the first time someone had wanted him like that.  He and Vin were both aware that they were considered attractive by a lot of people and had been forced to fend off a lot of advances – some more forcefully than others.  But this was the first time he had come so close to...  He shook his head, not wanting to think about it any more.  There were more important concerns, like how he was going to extract Vin from the clutches of the police.  

During a break in the activity inside the old building, Ezra took the opportunity to slip out of his hiding place.  Ignoring the pain in his arm, he made his way silently out the door, pausing in the alley until he was certain it was clear.  A crowd had gathered nearby, drawn by the lights and sirens, and Ezra was able to carefully creep out of the alley and join them.  Blending in was a skill he had acquired at an early age, and he managed to quickly ease his way to the front of the crowd.  He was relieved to find that Vin was still there, seated in a black truck next to the dark-haired cop he had seen inside the building.  

Ezra memorized the license plate, vowing to do whatever he needed to find his friend.  He owed Vin a lot, and he wasn't going to leave him at the mercy of the police any longer than was necessary.  The blond agent climbed into the driver's seat of the truck, and moments later, pulled out into traffic, disappearing from view.

Ezra watched until the taillights vanished before turning around and heading toward home.

* * * * * * * * * *

Buck glanced at the silent teenager curiously.  Most street kids in his position would be putting on the tough-guy act, cussing and strutting with a false bravado that the streets seemed to instill in them.  This one kept quiet, complying silently with their demands.  What was more noteworthy, though, was that Chris seemed to have taken an unusual interest in the kid.  By all rights, he should have turned him over to the DPD and washed his hands of the matter, but, for some reason, he wanted to talk to the boy personally.

Something wrong, Buck?  Chris looked over at his friend, aware of his scrutiny.

Buck answered casually.  Just wonderin' why the kid's comin' with us.

Chris smiled.  He figured Buck would be curious about his motives.  Digger was a good guy, Chris said.  He was harmless.  I want to know why someone killed him and what it was that he wanted to tell us.

Buck's eyebrows lifted in surprise when the boy turned to look at Chris.  _Interesting.  Chris must figure the kid knows something._

Chris met the teenager's gaze and smiled.  Buck nodded, agreeing with his friend's assessment.  Now they just had to get the kid to talk.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra walked numbly down the dark street, his knees still shaking from what he had experienced.  He clutched his left arm tightly with his right.  His shoulder had been pulled out of place again and throbbed fiercely.  It wasn't the first time it had happened, and he had long ago learned how to fix it by himself, since he didn't always have access to proper healthcare.  It would have been preferable to have a professional fix it, but he was not up to dealing with the inevitable questions tonight.  

After slipping inside his apartment, Ezra braced himself and then slammed his shoulder against the wall, crying out as the joint grated back into place.  He slid to the floor, leaning his head back against the wall as he sucked in some calming breaths.  It always hurt like hell when he did that, but it was better to take care of it right away, since the pain would increase the longer he put it off.  

His bed was beckoning him, and Ezra would have liked nothing better than to crawl under the covers and sleep for a week, but there were still things he needed to do.  Pulling himself to his feet, Ezra rummaged in their box of first aid supplies, withdrawing the sling he had kept after suffering his last dislocated shoulder.  He didn't like wearing it, but it did ease the pain a bit.  Slipping it on, he quickly left the apartment, heading in the direction Mr. Benevito's Italian restaurant. 

Ezra started to do his usual clean up work at the restaurant, but when Mr. Benevito spotted the sling, he immediately insisted upon taking over the cleaning himself, refusing to allow Ezra to continue.  After arguing unsuccessfully with the determined man, Ezra finally conceded defeat and made his way home, secretly grateful for the chance to rest his aching arm.  

Back in his apartment, he sank into a chair, depositing the package of food the restauranteur had insisted he take home with him.  He smiled faintly at the outrage the portly Italian had expressed on his and Vin's behalf, cursing in both English and his native language.  Mr. Benevito was an example of the many good people in the neighborhood, and it was a shame that scum like MacDermott had to make things harder for them.

Thoughts of MacDermott brought the memory of the day's events crashing down on him and Ezra started to shake.  He had tried to push it away, focusing on Vin and the work at the restaurant, but he could not keep it in check any longer.  The despicable thug had nearly succeeded in his assault.  If not for Vin's timely arrival, Ezra had no doubt that MacDermott would have raped him.  His stomach clenched and Ezra barely made it out the door before he vomited violently, leaving the meager contents of his stomach on the pavement beside the door.

Still trembling, Ezra stumbled back inside, trying vainly to stifle the sobs that were building in his chest.  Finally, he could hold out no longer.  Crawling onto the mattress, he curled into a tight ball as the wracking sobs shook his body.  He had never felt so scared and helpless in his life.  He could still feel the man's hands groping along his body, squeezing and touching him while he struggled to escape.  It left him feeling violated, even though MacDermott had not completed his intended act.

Vin had rescued him from that horrible fate, but he had been caught by the police in the process.  Ezra beat his fist on the mattress.  It was all his fault.  If he had been more careful about avoiding MacDermott, Vin would never have needed to rescue his worthless hide.  How could he have been so careless?  A new rush of tears started at the thought of his best friend languishing in police custody because of his lack of vigilance.  

The sobs finally abated, leaving Ezra bleary-eyed and spent.  He lay limply in a miserable huddle on his bed, trying to formulate a plan to retrieve Vin from police custody, but his mind was too clouded with pain and exhaustion.  Giving up, he finally fell into a fitful slumber.

* * * * * * * * * *

The room was sterile and quiet.  Vin looked around nervously, avoiding the mirror that he knew was two-way glass.  He had been in an interrogation room a couple of times before, but they still made him nervous.  It was disquieting to know that someone could be watching you at any time through that blasted mirror.  

Vin fidgeted in his seat, then straightened, remembering what Ezra had taught him about not showing fear.  It was a lesson that had served him well.  He quickly learned that others were less likely to mess with you if you didn't display any fear.  Keep your weaknesses hidden, and no one can exploit them, Ezra had said.  He was right.

His thoughts drifted to his friend.  Vin hoped Ezra was all right.  The fear and pain he had seen in the other boy's eyes worried him, and he knew Ezra had to have been terrified to resort to begging.  A renewed anger flared within him briefly at the thought of what MacDermott had been about to do.  That bastard deserved everything he got, and then some.  Vin wished he could have done some more damage before the two cops had arrived.

Worry for Ezra slowly turned into fear.  What if Ezra didn't wait for him to come back?  Living the way they did was difficult enough without having to do it alone.  He felt a pang of loss at the thought of never seeing Ezra again.  The other boy was more than just a friend; he was a brother, or at least the closest thing to a brother he was ever likely to have.  Vin's mind was whirling with these thoughts when the door to the room finally opened.

* * * * * * * * * *

Chris watched through the door as the emotions played across the boy's features.  His face was not as expressive as most, but Chris was good at reading people and could tell the kid was worried and scared.  All of a sudden, the boy's face changed, almost as if he sensed he was being watched.  The emotions were gone, replaced by a flat, bland expression.  Chris shook his head, thinking that it was a shame to have to learn that kind of skill at such a young age.

Josiah walked up beside him, handing him a file folder.  Got this when we ran the prints.

Chris opened the folder, reading through the pages quickly before snapping it shut.  Grinning at Josiah, he reached for the door.  Let's see what Vincent Michael Tanner has to say for himself.

Chris strolled through the door, watching as the kid flinched slightly at the sudden disturbance.  He took a seat across from the boy, dropping the folder in front of him.  Tapping his finger on the folder, he said, My name is Chris Larabee.  Says here your name's Vincent Michael Tanner.  You ran away from your foster home in Fort Worth two and a half years ago.  He gave the kid a hard look.  That true, Vincent?

The kid just stared at him.

I know you speak English, Chris continued.  I heard you cussing up a storm at that guy you creamed with the baseball bat.

The boy still said nothing.

Why'd you beat him up, Vincent?

After a moment, the kid said softly, 

Excuse me? Chris inquired, knowing perfectly well what the kid had said.

Call me Vin, the boy said, a faint drawl evident in his voice.  

Okay, Vin, Chris complied.  You want to tell me why you hit Jerry MacDermott?

Anger flared in Vin's eyes, and he said with a self-satisfied smirk, 'Cause he deserved it.

I know he's a scumbag, Chris said conversationally, but what did he do to piss you off so bad?

Vin just shook his head, refusing to reply.

Okay, then what do you know about Digger?

Vin replied.

You sure? Chris prodded. He hadn't been dead for too long before we found him.

There was a flicker of something in the boy's eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, making Chris wonder if he had seen it at all.

Look, if you're afraid of someone hurting you, we can protect you, Chris reasoned.  Just tell us who killed him and we'll keep you safe.

Vin looked down at the table, making circles on the scarred wooden surface with his thumb.  Didn't see nothin', but it was prob'ly MacDermott.

Why do you think that?

MacDermott's an asshole, Vin said heatedly.  Wouldn't be the first time he got rid of someone who got in his way.

You got any proof?

No, but I can get some if ya let me outta here, Vin said hopefully.

Chris snorted.  Nice try, kid.  You know we have to send you over to juvie.

This time, there was no mistaking the fear in the boy's eyes.  Chris frowned, resolving to read the file more closely later to see if there was anything to explain what that was about.  In the meantime, he would see what else he could get from the boy himself.  

You don't want to go to juvie?

Vin rolled his eyes.  

Why not?

Vin looked at him, seeming to mull the question over before replying, Bad crowd in there.  Ain't good to associate with them miscreants.

You don't want to associate with miscreants? Chris repeated softly.  The words sounded strange coming from the boy in front of him.

The blue eyes flashed and Vin lifted his chin defiantly.  I ain't a criminal.

What do you call breaking a guy's kneecap with a baseball bat?

Vin replied evenly, glaring at him.

* * * * * * * * * *

Gasping for breath, Ezra sat up, staring wildly around the dark room.  Tremors rattled through his body and he ran a shaking hand through his sweat-dampened hair.  Repressing a shudder, he pushed away the remnants of the nightmare that had jolted him from his sleep.  He was alone in his room, not back at the old factory being mauled by MacDermott.  The drug dealer was behind bars and couldn't hurt him anymore.  Ezra repeated that to himself, hoping to avert a recurrence of the nightmare, but he doubted it would work.  Somehow, unpleasant experiences always seemed to make repeated visits in his dreams.  Sighing, Ezra wondered why the good times never seemed to linger as long.

Ezra gazed at the side of the bed where Vin usually slept, wondering what his friend was doing.  Was he in the police lockup, alone and scared?  Shivering, Ezra hoped that was not the case.  Vin was only defending a friend, and didn't deserve to be treated as a criminal.  MacDermott was the only one for whom that kind of treatment was warranted.

Ezra climbed out of bed, wincing at the renewed pain that lanced through his shoulder.  He shuffled to the sink in his stocking feet and poured himself a glass of water.  Returning to the bed, he rifled through the box of first aid supplies until he found a bottle of aspirin.  Ezra shook three into his hand and swallowed them with a sip of water, hoping they might dull the throbbing pain in his arm.  Sinking back into his pillows, Ezra closed his eyes, hoping that Vin was all right, wherever he was.

* * * * * * * * * *

Vin watched the blond's frustration increase as he refused to give him any more information.  There was no way he was going to tell the man what he wanted to know.  That would bring Ezra into the picture, and that was something he was simply not going to do.  Vin Tanner did not rat out his friends.

Well, I'm afraid we'll have to send you to juvie, miscreants or not, Larabee said.  Assault is still a crime.

Vin felt a stab of fear, knowing that MacDermott had connections in juvenile hall.  He was as good as dead if he ended up there.  Vin swallowed hard and looked away.

Something wrong?

Vin stared at the cop, looking in his eyes.  Something told him that this guy might actually give a damn.  He had seemed sincerely distressed over Digger's death.  Maybe he could be trusted with some information.  You a friend of Digger's?

Larabee raised his eyebrows at the question.  Why do you care?

Digger was okay, Vin said after a brief pause.  He was nice to me an'... an' some of the other kids. He silently chastised himself for the near-slip.

I knew Digger for a long time, Larabee answered.  He used to give me information about some of the... miscreants he knew about.

Vin smiled faintly at Larabee's use of his word.  It was one that Ezra had taught him, and he had always liked the sound of it. 

So, you have anything you want to tell me?

Vin bit his lip, then decided it wouldn't hurt to tell him, as long as he kept Ezra's name out of it.  MacDermott was tryin' to hurt a friend of mine.  He shrugged. He's bigger n me so I figured the bat was the only way to stop him.

Is your friend all right? Larabee asked him, looking honestly concerned.

Think so.

What was MacDermott doing?

Vin looked away, not sure he wanted to say anymore.

MacDermott likes boys, ya know? Vin said hesitantly.  And he don't care if they ain't willin'.

Larabee's face darkened and he suddenly looked like he wanted to spit nails.  I guess that's a good reason to bash him one.  I wish I'd let you hit him a couple more times.

Vin gaped at him, surprised that the man even believed him, let alone agreed with him.  In his experience, adults tended to dismiss or ignore anything they didn't want to hear, especially if it came from someone like him.

We found enough dope on MacDermott to bust him for dealing, so he'll be inside for a long time, Chris said reassuringly.  

You'll probably have to spend at least a few nights in juvie before social services takes over, Larabee said with a sigh.

He's got friends in there, Vin blurted out, cursing himself for the tremor in his voice.

Vin nodded, desperate to stay out of the juvenile detention facility.  I heard he had one kid knifed so he wouldn't talk. 

You know this kid's name? Larabee asked doubtfully.

Terry Keppler, Vin replied without hesitation.  He remembered hearing about the other boy's death.  He and Ezra had known Terry but hadn't hung around with him, since he was part of MacDermott's crowd until he was arrested for drug possession.  Terry's death had bothered Vin, since he had been the same age as himself and Ezra.  It was scary to think of someone your own age being dead and it reminded him of just how dangerous life could be.  If he or Ezra had made some different choices, it could have just as easily been one of them bleeding to death in a dirty bathroom stall.  

I'll check on it, Larabee promised.  And I'll see what I can do about keeping you out of there.

Vin stared at him for a moment, looking for signs of insincerity, then nodded.  Thank you, sir.

Larabee paused momentarily at the respectful address, then nodded in return before leaving the room.

Watching him leave, Vin wondered if he had made the right decision in saying as much as he had.  Nothing he had told the man would endanger Ezra, and if he could keep himself from being locked up, he would be back where he belonged that much sooner.  Vin hated the thought of Ezra having to make do on his own, and shuddered to think about what would have happened to the other boy if he hadn't shown up when he did.  Sure, Ezra was smart and tough and would be able to manage on his own, but they were a team.  Everything was just so much easier when you had a friend by your side.  

* * * * * * * * * *

What do you think? Chris asked Josiah, who had watched his discussion with Vin through the glass.  Josiah's psychology background gave him good insight into people and Chris wanted his take on the boy before taking any further action.

Josiah rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  He's worried, and not just about himself.

You think he's protecting someone? 

Josiah nodded.  I think so.  Did you notice how he never named his friend, yet he didn't hesitate to tell you any other names?

Chris said.  I caught that.  I figure this other kid has got to be a good friend, if Tanner was willing to take on a big man like MacDermott in his defense.

Kid seems to have a strong sense of honor, Josiah added.  He looked positively insulted when you insinuated that he was a criminal.  That glare was almost as good as yours.

Chris chuckled.  Yeah, I noticed.  Did you think it was strange when he said he didn't want to associate with miscreants?

I picked up on that, Josiah said.  It sounds like something he heard from someone else, though I don't doubt he knows what the words mean.  He strikes me as being fairly intelligent.

He's definitely different, Chris said.  For one thing, he's a lot cleaner than most of the street kids we come across, and he doesn't look malnourished like they usually do.  Doesn't seem to be a junkie, either.

That is unusual, especially for a kid who's been on the streets for more than two years, Josiah said, turning to look through the window again.

He called me Chris said, an amused look on his face.  When was the last time anyone we put in that room called me 

Josiah laughed.  I don't think I've ever seen anyone do that.  They're more likely to call you other things.

Someone taught him manners at some point in his life, Chris mused.

He's a puzzle, I'll give you that, Josiah said.  What are we going to do with him?

Chris sighed.  He should turn the kid over to the Denver Police, but something about Vin made him hesitate.  This wasn't a badass street tough who would end up spending most of his life behind bars if he was lucky to live that long.  There was a sense of pride and determination in Vin Tanner, and Chris found he wanted to know more about this unusual young man.

Josiah looked at his boss, who seemed lost in thought.

I'm going to put him in protective custody, take him out to the ranch with me tonight,  Chris said, surprising even himself with those words.

Josiah's eyes widened.  

Chris met the big man's pale blue gaze.  I'm not really sure.  I just know it's the right thing to do.

Might be, at that, Josiah said thoughtfully.  The boy certainly doesn't belong in juvenile hall.

Chris nodded absently, wondering at his snap decision.  Maybe it was the fact that he saw a lot of himself in the boy.  Stubborn and prideful: words that had been used to describe him more than once, could equally be applied to young Vin Tanner.  He admired the kid's resolve and didn't want to see that fire dimmed by being forced to associate with miscreants.  Chris smiled, thinking of what Buck would have to say about all this.

* * * * * * * * * *

Are you nuts?! Buck said.  The kid will probably steal you blind the minute your back's turned.

Chris said with a shrug.  But I don't think so.

This is crazy, Chris, Buck continued, shaking his head at his friend's lunacy.  You should just ship him down to juvie where he belongs.

Juvie would destroy this kid, Buck, Chris said.  I don't want to see that happen.

Buck stopped, and then turned to look his old friend in the eye.  He got to you, didn't he?

Chris opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his lips.  With a sigh, he said, There's something about him, Buck.  He's different.  He reminds me of me, you know?

Buck groaned.  Lord help us; two Chris Larabees. His expression turned serious.  You sure about this?

Hell, no, Chris said, his lips curling in a smirk.  But I know I have to do this.

Okay, then. Buck shrugged.  I'll help, too.  You want me to bring anything?

Bring some food, Chris said with a smile.  My cupboards are bare.

**TBC**

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Mean Streets**

**Part 3**

* * *

* * * * * * * * * * 

Vin sat in the room, looking nervously at the closed door.  Agent Larabee had been gone for a while and he was starting to worry about what would happen to him.  What if the man had lied to him and he was still destined for juvenile hall?  Vin sighed and cursed softly, chastising himself for his stupidity.

The door opened and the dark-haired man named Buck entered.  Hey, kid.  You ready to get out of here?

Vin looked at him warily.  Guess so.

Come on.  The big man grinned at him and opened the door, indicating that he should leave.

Vin stood slowly and walked into the hallway, stiffening slightly when he felt the man's hand on his shoulder.  His stomach chose that moment to growl loudly and he flushed in embarrassment, putting his hand over his protesting mid-section.

Buck chuckled.  

Vin glared at him, barely resisting the childish urge to stick out his tongue.  

Come on, Buck said.  I know just the place.

The hallway ended in a large, open area filled with desks.  Three of the desks were occupied.  A black man sat behind one in the corner.  Beside him, was a large, bearded man with salt-and-pepper hair and twinkling blue eyes.  At the last desk, was a young man, who Vin didn't think looked old enough to actually be working there.

Buck said, waiting until all their eyes were on him.  This here is Vin.  The men all greeted him cordially, the youngest one walking over to them.

Hey, kid.  I'm JD. JD offered his hand in greeting.

Vin took it tentatively.  Pleased to meet ya.

JD grinned at him.  I heard what you did to that jerk, MacDermott.  Way to go!

Buck admonished.  We ain't supposed to encourage that kind of behavior.

JD rolled his eyes.  Yeah, I know.  But you gotta admit, guys like him deserve an ass-kicking or two.

Vin had to smile.  He figured he could get to like this guy.

Where's Chris? Buck asked, not seeing his friend in his office.

He's upstairs with Travis, pulling some strings,  the big man said, walking over to join them.  He turned to Vin.  My name's Josiah.

Vin nodded at him, shaking his hand.  His stomach growled again and he glared at it, as if that could stop it from making embarrassing noises.

I think we need to get this young man some dinner, Josiah said with a laugh.

That's the plan, Buck said.  Soon as I can find Chris.

Why don't we leave him a note? the black man suggested.  I sure could use some of Inez's fine cookin'.

Buck pondered that, running a hand over his mustache.  Okay.  I'm starved too.  

Hi, I'm Nathan. The dark-skinned man moved closer to Vin, while Buck penned a quick note for Larabee.

Vin shook his hand, nodding a greeting and shifting uncomfortably under the man's intense scrutiny.

JD noticed his discomfort and chuckled.  Don't mind Nathan.  He's an EMT.  He's always looking us over, making sure we haven't hurt ourselves.

Buck said, grinning broadly.  How bout we get us some food?

* * * * * * * * * *

Inside the bar, Vin perched stiffly on a chair at the table, surrounded by the group of men he had just met.  They seemed friendly enough, but he couldn't help but feel nervous and apprehensive about his future.  He was startled by a touch on his shoulder and looked up to see a pretty, dark-haired woman smiling down at him.

Who do we have here? the woman asked the group.

This is Vin, Buck said.  He's gonna be hanging out with us for a while.

Well, hello, Vin, she said, smiling at him.  My name is Inez.

Pleased to meet you, ma'am, Vin said softly.

Inez's smile grew wider and she turned to the group.  You could learn something from this one about manners.

The men laughed and Vin blushed. 

What would you like to drink, Vin? Inez asked.

Whatever you have is fine, ma'am, Vin said.

she said.  I will bring you some root beer.  She swept away into the kitchen.

So, Vin, Josiah began.  What do you like to eat?

Vin shrugged.  Ain't too picky.  I'll eat most anythin'.

What's your favorite thing? JD persisted.

Vin looked at them, then said hesitantly, I like lasagna, and chocolate cake.

Kid has good taste, Buck said with a smile.

Well I can certainly recommend Inez's cooking, JD said.  Everything she makes is good.

The conversation flowed around him, and Vin commented when necessary, but he spent the rest of the time studying the men around him.  They seemed to be a genial bunch, and despite his misgivings, he found himself relaxing a little in their company.

Buck called.

Vin turned to see the blond man striding through the door.

he said, taking a seat next to Vin.  

You get everything worked out? Josiah asked.

Larabee smiled.  Yep.  Travis still has a lot of connections.

JD said.

Larabee turned to Vin.  I fixed it so that you can stay with me for a while, instead of goin' to juvie.  That okay with you?

Vin stared at him, stunned at this new development.  Why would Larabee want him to stay in his house?  His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he contemplated the man's intentions.  He didn't know what to think of the offer, but it meant he didn't have to go to juvenile hall...  After a moment, he nodded slowly.

Larabee said.  Buck's gonna come out tonight and keep us company.

Buck snorted, whispering to Vin conspiratorially, He just wants me to bring the food.  Man hates to go grocery shopping.

Vin smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.  

Inez interrupted then, bringing a tray of drinks and taking their dinner orders.  When she got to Vin, she paused, then smiled.  I know just what to bring you.  Trust me?  At his nod, she patted his shoulder and walked away.

The bar began to fill, with many of the new arrivals waving to the men at his table in greeting.  Vin found himself the subject of a lot of curious stares and slumped in his chair to make himself less visible.  A short time later, Inez returned with a tray full of delicious-looking dinners, which she efficiently distributed to all of them.

Vin's eyes boggled at the huge plate full of burritos the pretty woman had brought him.  The others had already started in on their own dinners, so Vin picked up his fork and dug into the fragrant food.

Buck gave Inez a charming smile.  Inez, darlin', this looks almost as delicious as you do.

Inez rolled her eyes and muttered something in Spanish.  

Vin understood some Spanish and chuckled at the pretty woman's comments.

She likes me, Buck boasted.  No woman can resist ol' Buck's charms for very long.

Vin snorted, covering his mouth with his hand to stifle his laughter.

What's so funny, kid? Buck asked him, looking puzzled.

That ain't what she said, Vin said, trying not to laugh too much.

You speak Spanish? Larabee asked.

A little, Vin said with a shrug.

What'd she say? JD asked eagerly.

Vin grinned.  Somethin' about a dog with fleas.

The table erupted with laughter.  

Guess she told you, Buck, JD said.

I'm wearin' her down, Buck huffed.  Just wait.

* * * * * * * * * *

The darkness outside hid much of the scenery, but Vin could make out trees on the side of the road.  His apprehension had returned, increasing as they left the lights of the city behind.  He looked at the man beside him, wondering again at his motives for allowing a kid like him into his home.  Early in his young life, he had learned that very few things in this world came without a price.

They slowed and turned onto a narrow road and Vin sat up with interest when he saw the fenced corral outside of his window.  When he spotted the house in front of them, he realized the road was actually a long driveway.

We're here, Larabee announced as he pulled the truck to a stop next to the house.

Vin unclipped his seat belt and stepped out of the truck, looking around curiously.  He heard some animal noises coming from the barn and looked at Larabee curiously.  You have horses?

Larabee grinned.  Yep.  I have four, and the boys each board their horses here.  He looked at Vin.  You like horses?

Vin nodded.

You can meet them tomorrow morning at feeding time, Larabee said, putting his hand on Vin's shoulder, urging him toward the house.

Vin stepped into the house hesitantly, Larabee a few steps behind him.  His unease lessened when the agent snapped on the lights, illuminating the spacious and inviting home.  It was decorated in a comfortable Southwestern style that Vin found appealing.  It was the kind of place he hoped he and Ezra could have for themselves one day.

Make yourself at home, Larabee said, gesturing to the living room.  I'll be back in a minute.

He watched Larabee disappear down the hallway before wandering into the living room area.  The two sofas, arranged around the big stone fireplace, were huge and looked very comfortable.  Pictures lined the mantel and Vin moved closer to look at them.  Most of them were groupings of the men he had met today.  The last one on the right, though, showed Larabee with a woman and a small boy.  Vin felt a sudden pang of fear.  He hadn't considered that the man might have a family.  What if they didn't want him here?

A touch on his shoulder alerted him to Larabee's return, and Vin turned to look at him nervously.  You sure your family won't mind me bein' here, sir?

* * * * * * * * * *

The cart squeaked down the aisle of the grocery store.  One wheel was out of alignment, pulling the entire cart to the right and causing the annoying squeal that was distracting JD from his task.  Grocery shopping was not his favorite thing to do, but he had not volunteered to help Buck buy food simply to be helpful.  His roommate had been quiet since they left Inez's bar, and quiet was definitely not a normal state for Buck.

Tired of the silence, JD finally asked, So, what's bugging you?

  Buck looked at him, confused.

JD rolled his eyes.  You haven't said two words since we left the saloon.

Buck sighed and rubbed his mustache.  I'm just worried, is all.

About Chris and the kid? JD guessed.

Buck admitted.  I haven't seen him show so much interest in a kid in a long time.  I just... He shrugged, unsure of what to say.

Chris knows what he's doing, JD said reassuringly. 

I just don't want him to get hurt if things with Vin don't work out, Buck explained. The aftermath is never pretty.

Maybe it's just something he needs to do? 

Buck conceded reluctantly.  It's just that I've seen him like this before, ya know?  He takes anything involving kids real personal, and I don't want to see him drowning in a bottle if things don't go the way he planned.

Well, if they don't, he's got the rest of us around to distract him. JD grinned at his roommate.

Buck chuckled and slapped his young friend on the back.  That he does, kid.

Don't worry, Buck, JD said confidently.  I have a feeling everything's gonna be fine.

* * * * * * * * * *

Chris felt like he had been punched in the gut as he stared into the anxious blue eyes.  Vin took a step backwards and Chris forcibly shook himself out of his stupor.  His stunned silence had probably frightened the boy.  He sighed and ran a hand through his short blond locks.  

I don't have a family any more, he quietly explained.  They died.

Vin looked at the floor, distress evident on his face.  I'm sorry.

Chris gave him a wan smile.  Not your fault.

Vin nodded tentatively.

How about some hot chocolate? Chris offered, hoping to lift the suddenly somber mood.

Vin replied, following him into the kitchen.

Buck'll be here in a little while, Chris continued, pulling out the milk and the cocoa mix.  Hope you like junk food, cause that's all he knows how to buy.

Smiling tentatively, Vin nodded as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

Using the microwave, it only took a few minutes to brew the hot chocolate.  Chris handed one to Vin and ushered him back into the living room.

You want to watch a movie? Chris suggested, pointing to the cabinet full of videos standing next to his large television.

Blue eyes widened in surprise and Vin nodded silently.

Chris wondered at the boy's quiet behavior.  It wasn't the sullen or angry silence he was used to seeing in teenagers; it was a more anxious, wary silence and he wondered what kind of things would cause such behavior in one so young.  There were a lot of unanswered questions about his houseguest and Chris knew they wouldn't all be answered tonight.  With a shrug, he moved toward the video collection.  What would you like to see?

Vin bit his lip and shrugged.  I don't know.

Looking over his collection, Chris pondered what Vin might like.  Josiah had told him that the boy was not likely to state his preferences on many things, in order to be accommodating and unobtrusive.  It was a street survival instinct, the big man had explained.  Out there, it was safer not to draw attention to yourself or risk offending someone else when you had no one to protect you.  

His eyes settled on one video, and Chris smiled, nodding to himself.  He had never met a boy who didn't like this movie.  How about _Star Wars_?   Do you like that one?

Vin eyed the suggested movie curiously.  Guess so.  Never seen it before.

Chris had to struggle to keep himself from reacting.  How could a boy his age never have seen _Star Wars_?  It was on television all the time, in addition to all the theater showings.  Sighing inwardly, he forced himself to smile.  

Well, I think you'll like it.  It's a classic.  He slid the tape into the VCR and settled back on the sofa beside Vin to watch it.  The opening credits had just started when Buck made his usual noisy entrance.  

Fear not, Buck shouted cheerfully.  Buck has arrived.

Lord help us, Chris said, rolling his eyes.  He stood and went to help Buck with the bags he was carrying.

Vin smiled as Buck waggled his eyebrows.

The two men returned from the kitchen and sat on the sofa with Vin between them.

What are we watchin'? Buck asked, nudging Vin gently.

Star Wars, Vin replied, his eyes glued to the screen.

Buck looked at Chris, raising his eyebrows in inquiry.  Chris mouthed and Buck nodded in agreement. 

The three sat through the movie, snacking on some of the bags of junk food Buck had brought.  The two men had to smile at Vin's obvious enjoyment of the video.  He had remained completely engrossed in the story until the end.  

How'd you like it? Buck asked.

That was pretty cool, Vin admitted.

Chris chuckled.  We'll have to watch the second one tomorrow.

Vin nodded, then shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  Uh, can I use the bathroom, sir?

Chris answered.  And you can call me Chris.  Sir' makes me feel like an old man.

Well, you are an old man, Buck teased.  Not young and handsome like me.

You're full of crap, Buck, Chris replied, shooting a mock glare at his friend.  Come on, Vin.  I'll show you where it is.

* * * * * * * * * *

Looking at himself in the mirror, Vin thought about his circumstances.  Things were certainly better than he had expected.  He had been given a good meal and been allowed to stay at this nice house instead of juvenile hall, and they had even let him watch a movie.  It had been a long time since he had watched any television, and he could only remember going to the movies once in his life.  Most of the foster parents with whom he had stayed had not permitted him to watch much television.  Even if he was allowed, he was usually too busy doing homework and chores to watch it for any length of time.  

School work had always taken Vin a longer time to complete than most other kids, making him feel stupid and worthless.  Ezra was the only person other than his first set of foster parents to tell him that he wasn't dumb.  His first foster parents, the Reeds, had been good people, who had taken extra time to help him with school.  He had enjoyed living on the ranch with them, but had only stayed there three years.  After his foster mother had died suddenly, the state had taken him away from his foster father, claiming that it was in his best interests.  Vin snorted.  As if it was in his best interest to be beaten and starved by the greedy bastard at his next foster home, who had taken him in solely for the money he could collect from the state.  

He had run away three times, each time getting caught and returned to the same foster home.  Finally, he was moved to a new place, which was worse than the last.  There weren't many people who would take in a problem child', as he had been deemed, and most of these were equally bad – more interested in the money than his welfare.  The cycle continued, until the last place.  It was more of the same, and he had been planning to leave.  But then Ezra had arrived, and he had made his first real friend.

There had been other kids around in most of the places he had lived.  Some foster parents had children of their own; others took in more than one foster child.  None of the kids had ever treated him with anything other than contempt or indifference, however.  Given a choice, he preferred to be ignored – it was much less painful.

Ezra had been different, though.  Vin had never met anyone quite like him before, and found himself drawn to the other boy.  Despite the arrogant façade the other boy had initially displayed, he had been able to sense that, underneath, Ezra had a good heart.  It had taken some doing, but he had finally gotten the other boy to talk to him.  They had become fast friends and, after recovering from the last beating their drunken foster father had dispensed, had left that place together and never looked back.

With a sigh, Vin washed and dried his hands, venturing back out into the living room.

Hey, Vin, Larabee said.  It's getting late.  How bout I show you your room?

My room? Vin said, sending a puzzled look to his host.  He had expected to be sleeping on the couch.

Larabee and Buck exchanged a look, then his blond host smiled at him.  It's down here. He pointed down the hall.  I have two extra bedrooms, so you can have whichever one you like.

Come on.

Vin followed him silently, still trying to process the fact that he was being given a whole room to himself.  He had always had to share in his foster homes, sometimes sleeping on the floor due to the lack of available beds.  Larabee showed him into the first room, and Vin looked around tentatively, taking in the large room with the big bed and attached bathroom.

What do you think? Larabee asked him.

This is nice, sir... I mean, Chris.  He swallowed nervously, not sure how to respond to the benevolence this man had shown him.  

Larabee said.  Buck can take the other room.  Do you want a t-shirt or something to sleep in?

Vin nodded mutely.

I'll be right back.

Larabee left the room and Vin moved hesitantly to the bed, sitting down on the edge to remove his shoes.  

Larabee returned a few minutes later, handing him a t-shirt and a pair of light sweatpants.  These are JD's.  We figured they'd be the closest to your size.

Thank you, Vin said shyly as he took the proffered items.

The guys tend to crash here a lot, so they all keep some extra clothes on hand, Larabee explained.  Do you need anything else?

Vin shook his head.

Okay, then, Larabee said.  We need to leave by seven tomorrow morning to get to the office.  I'll make sure to wake you.

Thank you, Vin repeated softly.

Larabee smiled at him and left, closing the door behind him.

It didn't take Vin long to change his clothes and climb into bed.  His mind whirled with all the events of the day and his last thought before drifting off to sleep was that he hoped Ezra was safe.

* * * * * * * * * *

Chris grabbed a couple of beers and went to sit next to Buck, handing him a bottle.

Buck said quietly.

Chris agreed.  Something tells me that boy hasn't seen a lot of kindness in his life.

Buck snorted.  You see the way he watched that movie?  You'd think he hadn't seen it before.

He hadn't, Chris said abruptly.

Buck looked up sharply.  

Chris nodded.

Kid's real quiet, too, Chris remarked.  Like he's afraid to say the wrong thing.

How the hell can people treat kids so bad that they think livin' on the streets is better? Buck asked, a pained look in his eyes.

Don't know, Buck.

Buck sighed.  Guess I know why you brought him home.

He gettin' to you, too? Chris eyed his old friend, knowing he had a big and caring heart.

Buck smirked at him.  Hell, yeah.

* * * * * * * * * *

The morning was colder than the one before, but, dressed in his new clothes and warmer coat, Ezra didn't feel it as much.  His step was heavier than usual and he moved stiffly, his muscles protesting the previous day's abuse.  His thoughts were occupied with Vin and he almost walked past the diner.  With a self-deprecating shake of the head, he pushed open the door.

Good morning, Mrs. Milford, he said as the diner's owner stepped out to greet him.

Hello, Ezra, she said, puzzled by his presence, since it was Vin's turn to help her that day.  Her eyes narrowed as she took in his appearance.  What happened to you?

Giving her a wan smile, he gave her an abbreviated explanation of what had occurred the previous day, leaving out the part about what MacDermott had planned to do to him.  From the look he saw in Rosie's eyes, though, he had a feeling she already knew.

Frowning, she grabbed hold of his good arm and led him to a booth.  You sit.

Ezra started to protest, but was cut off by her stern look.

she commanded, disappearing into her kitchen, reappearing a few minutes later with a toasted bagel slathered with cream cheese.  You start with that.  I'll bring you some eggs in a couple of minutes.

But, ma'am, I haven't...

Ezra, you are in no shape to work today. She put her hands on her hips and eyed him sternly.  You just relax and eat your breakfast..

It was futile to argue with the determined woman, so Ezra swallowed and nodded sheepishly.  Yes, ma'am.

Rosie brought him a heaping plate of bacon and eggs and wouldn't let him leave until he finished all of it.  Finally, he was done and Rosie nodded at him, satisfied.

At least let me help you with these, Ezra insisted, carrying his plate into the kitchen.

Rosie followed him, shaking her head.  Stubborn child.

But you like me anyway, Ezra said, giving her a dimpled grin.

Laughing, Rosie gave him a gentle shove.  Off with you now, boy.

Yes, ma'am, Ezra said, giving her a two-fingered salute as he headed for the door.  Feeling a little better, he started back toward his home, contemplating his plans for the day.  The only thing he knew for certain was that he was going to do whatever it took to find Vin.

* * * * * * * * * *

His eyes snapped open and he sat up with a gasp, looking around him wildly.  A few moments later, he remembered where he was and flopped back down into his pillows.  For a minute, it had all seemed like a very strange and twisted dream.  Vin looked over at the clock on the night stand.  It was a few minutes past five – a little early, even for him.  Gazing at the door to the bathroom, he wondered if Larabee would mind if he had a shower.  The man hadn't told him he couldn't, and he _did_ say to make himself at home.  Vin grinned and headed into the bathroom.

After his shower, Vin dressed and wandered out into the hallway, leaving the borrowed clothing in a folded pile on the neatly-made bed.  From the other guest room, he could hear some snoring, indicating that Buck was still asleep.  The house was quiet, so he kept his steps light, moving softly into the living room.  He sat on the couch and looked around the room.  He didn't want to wake the two men with the television, and he didn't think Larabee would appreciate him snooping around his house, so he sat quietly until the boredom finally got to him.  Levering himself off of the sofa, he ambled toward one of the two tall bookcases that flanked the fireplace.

Larabee had a large collection of books, most of which appeared to be either westerns or mystery novels.  Vin perused the many volumes, finally settling on one that was familiar to him.  The synopsis on the dust jacket sounded interesting, and he had seen Ezra reading it at the library last year, so he figured it was something he might like.  Settling on one end of the sofa, he started reading, using his finger to help him focus on the individual sentences.

Half an hour later, Vin heard the muffled sound of a shower running and figured that one of the agents was awake.  He debated with himself for a minute, then nodded decisively.  Setting the book aside, he went into the kitchen and rummaged around until he found the coffee. One of the tasks he usually did at Rosie's diner was preparing the first pots of coffee for the day.  He figured it was the least he could do to repay Larabee's generosity.   

**TBC**

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Mean Streets**

**Part 4**

* * *

* * * * * * * * * * 

Stifling a yawn, Chris headed for the kitchen, stopping short at the welcome scent of coffee brewing.  he called, pushing into the kitchen.  The coffee maker was bubbling away on the counter, but the kitchen was empty.  Frowning, Chris turned around, listening intently for the sound of the shower.  All he heard was Buck's muffled snoring.  What the....?

Good mornin'.

Chris spun around to see Vin watching him from the sofa.  Morning.  You're up early.

Vin shrugged.  I always wake up early.

I hope you make good coffee, Chris said with a smile, moving closer to the couch.  Buck can be a real bear if he doesn't get his morning dose of caffeine.

Vin gave him a hesitant smile.

Noting the book in the boy's hands, he said, I see you found something to read.

Vin looked down at the book then back at Chris, his eyes flickering with apprehension.  I... um... I didn't think you'd mind?

Nah, go ahead, Chris said, smiling reassuringly.  Reading's good for you.  Least, that's what Sister Mary Catherine used to tell me in the fifth grade.

Vin smiled, the tension leaving his posture.

Which one caught your eye?

Vin held up the book.

_Patriot Games_. Chris nodded approvingly.  One of my favorites.

Looked interestin'.

Buck chose that moment to come shuffling down the hall.  he said in a sleep-muffled voice.  Coffee ready?

Just about, Chris replied.

Buck flopped onto the couch with a sigh.

Vin hid a smirk, turning back to his book.

What're you smilin' about? Buck said, frowning at Vin.

Looking up nervously, Vin relaxed when he saw Chris chuckling behind his friend's back.  Tilting his head thoughtfully, Vin pointed to Buck's hair.  Bed head.

Buck ran his fingers through his unruly curls, which were currently sticking up in all directions.  The ladies like my bed head, he sniffed.

Ain't no ladies here, Buck, Chris pointed out.

Buck said.  I'm going to take a shower.  He pushed himself off the couch and stomped down the hall to the bathroom.

Like I said, Chris explained.  He's a bear before he has his coffee.

Guess so, Vin agreed.

What say we get ourselves some?

  Vin followed him into the kitchen, heading directly for the coffee pot.  Want me to pour you some?

Chris answered, pulling some mugs out of the cabinet.

Vin poured him a cup, then filled one for himself.  Can I have some milk for this?

Go ahead.  There's some in the fridge.

After returning to the table with the milk, Vin looked up and asked hesitantly, 

Over there on the counter.  Chris pointed to the sugar bowl, sitting near the coffee maker.

Vin retrieved that as well, dropping a healthy spoonful into his coffee.  He stirred it carefully, then took his first sip with a smile.

Buck takes cream and sugar in his, too, Chris commented absently, taking a sip from his cup.  This is pretty good.  Where'd you learn to make coffee?

Vin shrugged, answering vaguely,   Much to his relief, Chris didn't press him for further details.

Want to help me rustle up some breakfast?

Nodding, Vin joined Chris at the counter as he gathered what he needed.  Together, they whipped up some pancakes and sausages, and had just finished eating when Buck strolled into the kitchen, his hair still wet from the shower.  He immediately poured himself a cup of coffee, taking a deep gulp. 

Wide-eyed, Buck looked at the cup in his hand.  This stuff'll put hair on your chest for sure.

You don't like it? Chris asked mildly.

Nah, it's good. Buck waved dismissively.  Just a mite stronger than your usual brew.

Well, I didn't make it, Chris said.  Vin did.

Buck took another sip.  Not bad, kid.  We'll have to get you to make some of this at the office.  It's way better than the dishwater Nathan makes.

Vin's face reddened slightly at the compliment.  It was a small thing, but he felt inordinately pleased that these men liked his coffee.  

Eat up, Buck.  We left you some breakfast on the stove, Chris said.  Vin's gonna help me feed the horses.

Buck waved them off and started in on his breakfast.  Chris and Vin got their coats and headed for the barn.  Inside, Vin looked at the horses with a smile.

You ever ride, Vin? Chris asked while he was filling a feed bucket.

Vin answered.  Stayed on a ranch for a while.  Had my own horse.  He had loved that horse.  His foster father, Eugene Reed, had let him name the animal when he had purchased him.  Seven-year-old Vin had named him Dusty, because his coat was a grayish-brown color that looked like he was covered in dust.  Mr. Reed had laughed at that reasoning, but had agreed with him.  He sighed, wishing he had been able to stay there.  Then again, he never would have met Ezra if he had stayed with Mr. Reed.  As far as tradeoffs went, he would take a brother over a horse any day. 

Maybe we can do some riding this weekend.

Vin looked at him, stunned that the man would let him ride one of his horses.  

Chris grinned at him.  The boys were planning to come over this weekend for a barbecue, while the weather's still nice enough to have 

Smiling, Vin turned to pet the nose of the horse nearest to him.  It was something to look forward to... if he was still here on the weekend.  As nice as this place was turning out to be, it was still missing one thing:  Ezra.  No place would feel right to him without his brother.  The two of them had been through too much together to let fate screw up their plans now.  

* * * * * * * * * *

After making the rounds of the shops where they worked, to inform them of Vin's absence, Ezra made his way to the library.  

Ms. Peterson took one look at him and immediately rushed to his side, guiding him to a seat.  What happened?

Ezra repeated the explanation he had given Rosie, making the previous night's unpleasantness sound like a simple scuffle as opposed to the attempted sexual assault that it was.  Thus far, all of Ezra and Vin's adult friends had been understanding about their desire to remain outside of the reach of Social Services, but if they thought the boys were in real danger, they would not hesitate to bring in the authorities.  Ezra disliked lying, but he was even less fond of the child welfare system, so he had fabricated a less disturbing story to explain his injury and Vin's absence.

What are you doing here? Ms. Peterson chided sympathetically.  You should be resting.

Ezra sighed.  I was rather bored.  

And worried about Vin? Ms. Peterson guessed.

I need to find him, Ezra said earnestly.

she began. 

I just need to know where he is, Ezra pleaded. He paused, then looked her in the eye.  I have to make sure he's safe.

All right, she said with a sigh.  Let's start with what you know.

It was the ATF that took him away, Ezra said, relieved that she was going to help him.

They probably handed him over to social services.  Unless... she frowned, tapping a finger against her chin.

Unless what?

Well, they might have pressed charges, which would mean he would be taken to a juvenile facility.

Ezra paled at that thought.  Having spent some time in such facilities, he hated the thought of Vin being stuck in a place like that.

I'll make a few calls and see what I can find out, okay?  She patted his hand gently, then walked back to her desk.

Ezra nodded, leaning back in his chair.  He picked up the daily newspaper and attempted to concentrate on the headlines, but his thoughts kept turning to Vin and what he might be going through.  Giving up on the paper, he pulled a pack of cards from his pocket and began shuffling them one-handed.  The cards had been one of the few gifts his mother had ever given him, and even though she had had an ulterior motive in giving them to him, he still kept them with him all the time.  It was a mystery, even to himself, why he didn't throw them away... like his mother had done to him.

Ms. Peterson's return roused him from his gloomy reverie.  

He's not at juvenile hall, she said with a smile.

Thank god, Ezra said, slumping back into his chair.

Social Services doesn't have him either.

What does that mean? Ezra asked, his fears returning.  Where is he?

The ATF had him last, so perhaps that's the place to start.

What would they want with Vin? Ezra wondered aloud.  Then it hit him.  The two ATF agents had known Digger.  The dark-haired one had seemed upset upon finding the old man's body.  They probably  thought that Vin knew something about who killed him... or about the weapons Digger had mentioned in his short drunken discussion with MacDermott.  Ezra wondered if one of the agents was the cop friend' Digger had called about the weapons.

What is it, Ezra?  Ms. Peterson said, her voice betraying her concern.

Ezra assured her.  I'm just worried.  He had not told anyone about witnessing Digger's murder, and now Vin was being detained in his place.  It was all his fault.

Maybe Vin will be able to call at some point? she offered.  He knows this number, doesn't he?

Ezra nodded.  He will try to contact me, if it is safe to do so.

Of course he will, she said encouragingly.  Now, why don't you just relax and pick out a book to read.  You won't do yourself or Vin any good if you make yourself sick with worry.

I'm rather tired, Ezra said.  I'm afraid I didn't sleep much last night.  I think I'll go home and take a nap.

That's probably a good idea.

Will you apologize to the children for me? he asked sincerely.  I do hate to disappoint them, but I fear I'm not up to reading to them today.

I understand, dear, Ms. Peterson said comfortingly.  You get some rest.

Giving her a weak smile, Ezra trudged out of the building, already planning his next move.  There was no way he was just going to give up and wait.  Vin wouldn't do that if their positions were reversed, so he wasn't about to give up on him, either.  The ATF had Vin, so that was where he would start his search.  With a new determination in his stride, Ezra headed for the federal building. 

* * * * * * * * * *

The massive gray building loomed upward, eighteen stories of government bureaucracy located within its concrete domain.  Ezra stared at the building from his position in a doorway across the street, like he had been doing for the past hour.  Now that he was here, he was at a loss as to what to do next. 

Stupid, Ezra, he chided himself.  What had he hoped to accomplish by coming here?  Vin was nowhere in sight and he had no clue as to how he was going to find him.  He couldn't exactly stroll inside and ask for him.  He sighed and started walking back the way he came, threading his way through the lunchtime crush of pedestrians.

Scanning the crowd warily, as he usually did, Ezra pulled up short at the sight of the big, mustached ATF agent he had seen at the old factory the previous night.  Turning on his heel, he ducked into the doorway of a copy shop, pretending to read the flyer that was taped to the window.  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the man approached, chatting animatedly with a shorter, dark-haired man.  

... long is he staying with Chris?  the younger man said.  

Don't know, the tall man – named Buck, if he remembered correctly – said in reply.  Chris thinks the kid's interesting.  I think he wants to....  

The rest of the man's words were drowned out by the engine noise from a passing garbage truck, and Ezra turned to follow him and his companion.  He felt suddenly energized, certain that they were talking about Vin.  Their walk ended a few minutes later when the two men turned into a small restaurant.  Ezra walked up to the building cautiously to take a closer look.  The windows were made of frosted glass, so he couldn't see inside, and it was too risky to attempt to enter the establishment, so he continued past the doorway, stopping in front of a row of newspaper vending machines.  He kept one eye on the door while he made the pretense of scanning the headlines.

He didn't have to wait long.  Five minutes later, the two men exited the restaurant carrying several large paper bags.  Affecting a casual stride, Ezra followed, hoping he could overhear more of their conversation.  His efforts were wasted, however, since the only thing the two men discussed during their return trip to the federal building was the upcoming football season.  

Watching the two men disappear inside the imposing building, Ezra blew out a breath and leaned against a mailbox, processing what he had learned.  There was no doubt in his mind that the ATF agents still had Vin, and from what the big man had said, he was staying with a man named Chris.  At the factory, he had heard the blond ATF agent identify himself to some policemen as Chris Larabee, so that gave him a place to start.  All he had to do now, was find an address to go with the name.  

He stared at the federal building while his mind considered and discarded various possibilities.  His eyes slid to the underground garage he could see on one side of the building.  Crossing the street, Ezra strolled casually along the sidewalk in front of the building, giving careful study to the metal garage door.  At the end of the driveway was a post, topped by a card reader that controlled access to the garage.  A camera mounted above the door provided extra security, monitoring vehicles entering the building.  The door was marked Entrance Only', and Ezra assumed there was another similar exit door on the other side of the building.  His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he contemplated the possibilities.  

* * * * * * * * * *

Food's here, guys, JD called out as he and Buck carried their bags into the break room.

Vin, who was sitting at the table concentrating on his book, looked up quickly, startled by their boisterous entrance.  Hurriedly, he marked his place in the book with the paper he had been using to assist his reading, and jumped up from his seat, retreating to a chair in the corner.

Where ya goin', kid? Buck asked.  We got you some lunch, too.

Vin stared at him, surprised that they had bothered.

Hell, we ain't gonna let ya starve, Buck said, pulling out some sandwiches and potato chips. 

_Wouldn't be the first time_, Vin thought to himself as he hesitantly made his way to the table.

Chris, Nathan, and Josiah joined them, eagerly digging into the pile of sandwiches.  

What kind of soda do you want? JD asked as he poked his head into the refrigerator.

Anything is fine, Vin said quietly.

How bout Coke?

Vin nodded, accepting the bottle from the young agent.  Buck handed him a sandwich and joined him at the table, tearing noisily into a bag of chips.  The noisy camaraderie at the table gradually drew him in and Vin again found himself relaxing in the company of this unusual group of men.  His eyes met Larabee's across the table and the blond tipped his bottle of soda toward him, giving him an encouraging smile.  Vin returned the smile with a tentative one of his own, before lowering his eyes and starting in on his lunch.

After lunch, when all the mess had been cleared away, Larabee approached him and inquired casually, Are you doing all right?  Getting bored with just sitting around here?

No, I'm fine, Vin answered succinctly, holding up the book.  This is enough for me.

Chris said.  I'll try to find something more interesting for you to do tomorrow, though, okay?

Vin nodded, trying not to think about the future.  He had contemplated running away from Larabee's ranch, but after waking twice during the night to find one or the other of the agents checking on him, he decided to bide his time until an opportunity presented itself.  There was no way for him to get out of this building unseen, especially with five men watching over him, so he had not even bothered looking for a way out.  He also thought about calling the library or the diner to check on Ezra, but did not want to risk drawing attention to his friend.    

Despite the kindness these men were showing him, Vin needed to get back to his home and his friend.  This situation wouldn't last for long, anyway.  Sooner or later he would be sent to another foster home, and there was no telling how bad it would be this time.  Sure, he could wait and just run away from there, but he had realized something yesterday in the interrogation room.  While _he_ didn't know anything about Digger's death, he couldn't say the same for Ezra.  

When he had arrived at the factory, he had heard his friend say to MacDermott, I won't tell anyone.  At the time, Vin assumed Ezra was talking about what MacDermott was attempting to do to him, but in retrospect, he realized that it was more likely that the other boy was talking about what had happened to Digger.  If he was right, Ezra could be in danger.  MacDermott might be in custody, but his gang of thugs was not, and they may well view Ezra as a threat to their boss.  It was frustrating not to know whether or not his friend was all right, and the thought of him facing off against those goons alone was unacceptable.  He and Ezra were a team and he was going to do whatever he could to get back to where he belonged.

* * * * * * * * * *

When he spotted the entrance to the parking garage, Ezra had gotten a sudden flash of inspiration.  Vin often teased him about the occasional leaps in logic he would make, cracking jokes about seeing a light bulb floating above his head.  Initially, he had bristled at the comments, believing that Vin was making fun of him, but eventually he came to realize that it was just the kind of teasing that friends often did.  Now, he teased his friend right back, reveling in the warmth of the friendship they shared.  That friendship was what brought him to this place and inspired the plan that was slowly forming in his head.

The obvious place for him to have started looking for Agent Larabee's address was the phone book, but he doubted the man would be listed.  His mother had told him once that most members of law enforcement preferred to be unlisted, hoping to prevent miscreants from discovering where they lived.  It made sense, so Ezra figured he would need a better means of getting the information he required.

After escaping from the factory building, Ezra had gotten a good look at Larabee's truck, including his license plate.  If he could find that truck, he could take a look at the man's car registration, which was certain to have his address on it.  Getting into the parking garage would be tricky, but Ezra believed he could do it without being detected.  Finding the truck was another matter.  He didn't know what kind of camera surveillance they might have inside, or if Larabee's vehicle would even be there.  For all he knew, the man had stayed home today.  But he had to try.

Turning around, Ezra hurried back to the newspaper vending machines he had seen earlier, purchasing a copy of the local paper before crossing the street.  Nonchalantly, he approached the federal building, scanning the headlines of the paper he held in his hand.  He selected a spot to the right of the garage door and took a seat on the ground, leaning back against the wall.  It was difficult to hold the paper with just one hand, so he gently eased his other hand out of the sling and affected a relaxed pose, peering around the edge of the paper toward the driveway.

Two hours later, Ezra was starting to reconsider his plan.  His legs were getting stiff from sitting on the ground and his shoulder was beginning to ache.  He had just started to fold the paper when a car approached.  Watching surreptitiously, he waited until the car had entered the garage, then dropped his paper and slipped over the raised side of the sloping garage entrance, staying out of the line of sight of the camera.  Keeping low, he ducked under the garage door as it started to close, darting immediately to one side and hiding behind the nearest car while he studied the area around him.  

The pounding of his heart seemed loud in his ears, but Ezra smiled, pleased with his accomplishment.  No one had seen him, judging by the lack of response to his presence during the ten minutes he had been crouched behind the vehicle.  He hadn't spotted any cameras inside, other than the ones by the elevator and stairway, and that would make his task much easier.  Slowly, keeping himself hidden behind the cars parked in the garage, Ezra made his way around the perimeter of the first floor of the underground facility, searching for the black truck.  

He finally located his quarry, parked against the far right side next to an old pickup truck.  After he verified the license plate, Ezra crept along the side of the truck, peering inside intently.  There was no sign of an alarm system, but that meant very little, since the newer systems were much less obvious than older ones.  

He had learned a lot about car alarms during his time in New York.  One of the other boys in his first foster home had spent some time in juvenile hall for car theft, and he had taught Ezra everything he knew about stealing cars.  It was something he had never even shared with Vin, not wanting his friend to think less of him for wanting to acquire such skills.  He never intended to use what he learned, other than in an emergency; he was simply curious about the process.  The only thing that his mother had ever appreciated about him was his inquisitive mind, and he made sure to put it to use as often as possible.

Removing his lockpicks from his shoe, Ezra made short work of the door lock and carefully opened the door, prepared to act quickly if an alarm went off.  He breathed a sigh of relief when nothing happened, hurriedly sliding into the truck and popping open the glove box.  The compartment was full of maps, receipts, and other scraps of paper.  Ezra rummaged through them quickly, finally locating the registration under some shell casings and an empty gun clip.  After quickly memorizing the address, he stuffed the registration back where he had found it and slipped quietly out of the vehicle.

Now that he had the information he needed, it was time to find an exit from the garage.  Perusing his surroundings carefully, Ezra spied an exit door on the opposite side of the garage.  Warily, he made his way along the rows of cars, dropping to the ground when the elevator suddenly dinged and two men entered the garage.  His heart was racing as he waited to see which direction the men would take.  When they climbed into a silver Lexus and left the garage, he sagged against the wall and let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. 

Wincing, Ezra rubbed his shoulder.  Sudden movements weren't kind to the healing joint, so he slipped his arm back into the sling, relieving some of the strain.  Resuming his journey, he finally reached the exit door, pushing out into the gray afternoon.  The sun, which had been shining brightly earlier that afternoon, had given way to thick, gray clouds that threatened rain.  But Ezra's mood was not dimmed by the gloomy turn of the weather.  He had been successful in his endeavor and with any luck, he would soon be seeing Vin.  With a confident smile, Ezra gave the federal building a last look before starting off toward his next destination. 

* * * * * * * * * *

Vin had to force himself not to roll his eyes when the door opened to admit JD into the house.  He had known what they had in mind since the moment Larabee invited the young agent to stay for the night.  Larabee and the others expected that he would feel more comfortable with someone closer to his own age – maybe comfortable enough to reveal some new information.  Vin snorted softly.  He might be young, but he wasn't stupid.  Social workers had tried that ploy with him before, trying to get him to give up the names of other runaway kids he had encountered during his own time on the streets.  They could try all they wanted, but there was only one person in the world he trusted with his secrets, and that was Ezra.

Still, Vin did find JD to be a likeable sort.  He chuckled inwardly.  It might be kind of fun thwarting his attempts to pry information from him.  He was pretty good at playing dumb.  Hell, most people thought he was dumb anyway, based on the way he looked and talked, or the difficulties he had in school.  It didn't bother him much anymore.  He knew who he was and didn't need the opinions of others to validate that.

Hey, Vin, JD called cheerfully, interrupting Vin's ruminations.

Vin answered with a faint smile.

I ordered some pizza, Larabee announced from the kitchen.  You like pepperoni?

Vin nodded at the question directed at him, watching curiously as JD carried a stack of what looked like videos into the living room.  

I brought some video games, JD said.  The rest of these old farts never want to play, so I figured you might like to.

Vin had to smile at the young agent's enthusiasm.  He had to admit being curious.  The only video games he had ever played were in an arcade back in Dallas, and even then, he had only played the target shooting games.  Eugene Reed had owned a large collection of antique guns, and had insisted that Vin learn about gun safety from an early age.  When he was seven years old, Reed had started teaching him how to use the weapons, setting up targets out in the field for him to use.  Vin had proven to be quite adept, hitting the targets most of the time.  Reed had been proud of Vin's skills and had promised to take him hunting when he got older, but unfortunately, Vin had been forced to leave before that happened.  It was the first in a long string of disappointments in his life.

Which one do you want to play? JD asked.

Vin shrugged, unfamiliar with the titles.

How about kickboxing?  That one's lots of fun.

Vin said.

JD grinned and set up the game, explaining how to play.  Vin learned quickly, giving JD more of a challenge than he expected.

Oh! Roundhouse to the head!  He's down! JD said with a laugh as his electronic persona was defeated.

You lose, Vin said, returning the smile.

You're pretty good at this, JD said.

I know a little about karate, Vin replied, knowing he was divulging some information.  It was an unimportant thing, and this way JD would have something to tell his boss.

Vin nodded.  Gotta know how ta take care of yourself out there.

Guess so, JD said, looking at him thoughtfully.

The doorbell rang and JD immediately jumped to his feet.  Pizza's here!

I heard, Larabee said, heading for the door.  He returned a minute later carrying two large pizzas.  Come and get it.

The three of them headed into the kitchen for dinner.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra brushed the rain off of his face, shivering as more water dripped down his back.  He glared up at the cloudy night sky as the intensity of the precipitation increased, wishing the bad weather had held off for at least one more day.  The rainfall that had been threatening all day had begun shortly after he got off of the bus, much to his dismay.  The rain had soaked through all of his clothes, so he supposed it didn't matter anymore how hard it was coming down.  Trudging on resignedly, he fervently wished the bus stop was a little closer to Larabee's house.

After obtaining the ATF agent's address, Ezra had returned to his basement home to get some money to pay for his transportation.  His arm ached and he shifted it slightly in the sodden sling.  He had thought about leaving it at home, but realized it would make his upcoming task more comfortable.  It might also work in his favor if he needed to play the sympathy card for any reason.  

Once he had what he needed from home, Ezra had returned to the library, telling Ms. Peterson that he was feeling refreshed after his nap and wanted something to distract him for a while.  He hated lying to her, but he knew she wouldn't approve of what he was planning to do later that night.  Avoiding the library entirely was not an option, since needed to get directions to Larabee's address.  Using the library's computers, he had looked it up on one of the online mapping web sites, along with the bus routes he needed to get there.

Unfortunately, the bus didn't go all the way to Larabee's place.  The last bus stop was almost nine miles from his address, so Ezra had spent the last couple of hours plodding slowly through the rain.  Checking his watch, he saw that it was nearly midnight.  He smiled at the fact that the watch was still running, despite being dripping wet.  

Vin had given him the watch as a gift last Christmas.  He already owned one, but it was an expensive Swiss timepiece that his mother had bought him – appearances were _very_ important to her.  It was stupid to wear a pricey item like that on the streets, so it usually stayed locked in their strongbox.  He acknowledged the practicality of doing that, but he had missed being able to tell the time at a glance.  This watch wasn't expensive, but it was of decent quality and Vin had assured him it would work under adverse conditions.  Apparently, Ezra thought with a chuckle, he was right.

The rain was coming down so hard that he nearly missed the driveway to Larabee's house.  It was the red flag on the mailbox that finally drew his attention, and Ezra turned onto the gravel track gratefully.  The driveway was long, but the house eventually came into view, a single light on the front porch providing the only illumination of the area.  He could see the faint outline of the black truck parked beside the house and a wide grin split his face.  He had made it.

**TBC**

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**Mean Streets**

**Part 5**

* * *

* * * * * * * * * * 

Vin awoke suddenly and gazed around the darkened room, looking for whatever it was that had disturbed his slumber.  But the only thing he heard was the rain pattering against his window.  He closed his eyes and turned over to go to sleep again, then immediately sat up at the faint rhythmic tapping he could hear outside.  Curious, he crawled out of bed and approached the window, wondering if there was a tree or bush bumping against the house.  His eyes widened in shock when he instead found a person standing outside his window.

Backpedaling, Vin was about to run to get Larabee when the face pressed closer to the window and a hand beckoned to him vigorously.  He took a step closer, then broke out in a broad grin when he recognized the face.  Quietly, he opened the window, sliding the screen up carefully.  

he whispered to the bedraggled figure.

Hey, Vin, Ezra whispered back.

Give me a minute.  He ducked his head back inside and quietly changed back into his clothes.  Returning to the window, he climbed over the sill, dropping onto the muddy ground outside.  Come on, let's get out of here.

The two teenagers ran down the driveway, slowing only when they reached the road.  

How'd you find me? Vin asked.

Ezra grinned at him tiredly.  Long story.

Tell me later, Vin said with a grin. Where we headed, anyway? 

B-bus s-stop, Ezra said, his teeth chattering in the chill night air.

Vin stopped, putting his hand on his friend's arm.  You okay?

F-fine, j-just cold.

Frowning, Vin urged Ezra toward a street light up ahead of them, stopping when they were under it.  In the dim light, Vin studied his friend, taking in his drenched clothes and the sling supporting his left arm.   His hair was plastered to his forehead and water dripped in glistening rivulets down his face.  What happened?

S-shoulder dislocated, Ezra said, his chin quivering in an attempt to suppress the chattering of his teeth.  

Vin growled.  I should'a hit im some more.

I'm okay, V-Vin.

Vin sighed, hating to see his friend in such discomfort.  He was wet and cold himself, but Ezra had obviously been out in the wet weather a lot longer.  Come on.  Let's get goin'.  They started walking again, keeping within sight of the road.

Why'd you come after me in such shitty weather? Vin asked.  Ya could've waited a while longer.

D-Didn't want you t-to be in-incarcerated on my b-behalf, Ezra explained.

Weren't your fault, Vin proclaimed adamantly.

I s-saw MacDermott k-kill Digger, Ezra said sadly.  

Vin said, squeezing the other boy's uninjured shoulder in support.  That sucks.  

Ezra agreed.  I s-suspected they w-were k-keeping you t-to question you about th-that.

They walked in silence for nearly twenty minutes before Vin inquired, Just how far is this bus stop, Ez?

'Bout seven m-more miles, Ezra replied.

Aw hell.

* * * * * * * * * *

No, no, no, no, no, Ezra groaned, banging his forehead repeatedly on the signpost for the bus stop.  Stupid, s-stupid.

Stop that! Vin exclaimed, pulling Ezra away from the pole.  What's wrong?

This b-bus stops r-running at t-two AM, Ezra explained.  It's n-nearly three now.

Guess we keep walkin', Vin said with a sigh.

Ezra said softly, his voice full of remorse.  I should have ch-checked.

Don't worry about it, Ez, Vin reassured him.  You found me.  That's what's important.

Ezra shrugged, then winced as his shoulder protested the movement.

Maybe we can hitch a ride, Vin suggested.

In what? Ezra said, a small grin forming on his face.  They had not seen a single vehicle during their trek thus far on the lonely stretch of road.

Vin shrugged, returning the smile.  Maybe we'll get lucky.

They kept walking, watching hopefully for a vehicle to give them a ride.  Headlights appeared an hour later, coming toward them.  Both boys stopped short, then dove into the bushes by the side of the road the moment they spotted the light bar on top of the vehicle.  The last thing they needed was to be picked up by the police.  

After the state trooper had passed, Vin sat up and peered around the bush in front of him.  That was close.  He turned to Ezra, frowning at the grimace on his friend's face.  Ez?  You okay?

Hit m-my shoulder, Ezra ground out through clenched teeth.

Give me your hand, Vin said, pulling Ezra upright by his good arm.  Come on.  We need to get you home.

Ezra nodded, too tired to speak.

The two teenagers resumed their journey, trudging along the side of the road.  Their luck finally turned when a truck approached from behind them.  They both turned to face the oncoming vehicle, Vin sticking out his thumb hopefully.  The driver apparently took pity on them, slowing to a stop a short distance ahead.  Vin and Ezra grinned at each other as they ran toward the big truck.  

Vin climbed up into the cab, helping Ezra up behind him.  Thanks, mister, Vin said gratefully to the middle-aged man behind the wheel.  You got a towel?  I don't want to get your seat all wet.

The man waved his hand. Don't worry bout that.  A little water never hurt nothin'.

Th-thank you, sir, Ezra said as he settled in beside Vin.

Name's Ken, the man introduced himself.

I'm Vin, Vin relied.  And this is Ezra.

Where ya headed?

Ezra replied.

What you boys doin' out at this time a night, anyhow?  Ken inquired.  Ain't a fit time for boys your age to be out.  Don't even let my own boy stay out this late.

Our f-friends d-deserted us in an unexpected l-location, Ezra said, quickly fabricating a story.

Vin said, picking up on what Ezra was doing.  Got pissed at us for somethin' and ditched us in the woods.

Don't sound much like friends to me, Ken said with a snort.

Yeah, they're assholes, Vin said.

Ken laughed.  'Least you know it now.

Vin and Ezra leaned back in the warm cab, listening to Ken talk about his family.  Ezra was asleep within minutes, and Vin had to shake him hard to wake him when they had reached the city a half hour later.

I'm headin' for an industrial park south o' town, but I can drop ya long the way, Ken offered.  

Vin scanned the area they were approaching and recognized a street that would take them home.  That street there is close to home.

Ken nodded and slowed the big rig, pulling to a stop at the street corner.

Thanks a lot, Ken, Vin said, shaking the man's hand.

Yes, thank you for your kindness, Ezra said.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a soggy twenty-dollar bill.  Please, take this for your trouble.

Ken held up a hand, shaking his head.  No way, kid.  Ain't no trouble to help out when folks need it.  Just be sure you do the same for others when ya can.

We will, Vin said sincerely.  

You just get yourselves home, Ken said, waving as they shut the door behind them.

He was real nice, Vin commented as they began the final walk home.

Yes, he was, Ezra agreed, forcing his tired legs to continue. 

We're almost home, Ez, Vin said encouragingly, hearing the weariness in his friend's voice.

Ezra nodded, focusing only on getting home to his bed.

Thirty minutes later, they arrived back at their home, where Ezra collapsed gratefully into a chair.  Vin plugged in their hot plate, heating a pan of water for some hot chocolate.  It came to a boil quickly, and Vin immediately swapped it for the space heater.  He made two cups of instant cocoa, setting one in front of Ezra.

Ez, you better get outta them clothes, Vin said to his friend, who hadn't moved from his position.

Nodding, Ezra stood and slowly peeled out of his sodden clothing, leaving them in a dripping pile on the floor.  He accepted a towel from Vin and awkwardly rubbed at his hair.  Vin handed him his sweatpants and one of his new sweatshirts, helping him to put them on, since his sore arm was not cooperating.

Drink that, Ez, Vin said, urging his friend to drink the warm liquid.  You're still shiverin'.

Ezra gave him a wan smile, his hand shaking slightly as he picked up the mug.  

The room had started to heat up by the time Ezra finished his hot chocolate, and Vin was beginning to feel sleepy himself, so he quickly changed out of his wet clothing, and joined his friend, who had crawled into bed and immediately fallen asleep.  Vin turned the heater's temperature down, so it wouldn't get too hot, then collapsed onto the mattress himself.  He fell asleep with a smile on his face, glad to be back where he belonged.

* * * * * * * * * *

Chris awoke to JD's loud voice.  Groggily, he pushed off the blanket and climbed out of bed and growled,    It was only four thirty – way too early to be up and about.

He's gone! JD ran up to meet Chris as he left his room.

Who's gone? Chris asked, searching his sleep-fogged mind to figure out what JD was talking about.

JD said, a hint of exasperation in his voice.  He's not in his room.

Chris followed his young friend down the hall to the guest room where Vin had been staying.  The clothes Vin had worn to bed were folded neatly on the edge of the bed, but there was no sign of the teenager.

Chris said, running a hand through his hair.  Did you check the barn?

JD nodded vigorously.  Yeah, that was the first place I looked, since you told me he liked the horses.

They made a quick search through the house and yard, but the missing boy was nowhere to be found.

Picking up the phone, Chris called Buck.

came the sleepy voice over the phone.

Vin bolted on us, Chris said abruptly.

There was a brief pause, then Buck sighed. Shit.  Did JD get anything out of him that might tell us where he went?

Not really, Chris said.  Only found out that the kid knows a little about martial arts – nothin' about Digger.

I s'pose we're gonna go lookin' for him?

Chris replied.  I need to find out what Digger wanted to tell me.  He may have been killed because of it.  And Vin could be in danger if he knows anything about it.

He take anything with him?

Chris heard the weary cynicism in his old friend's voice and forced himself to reign in his own doubts.  Doesn't look like anything's missing.  He even left behind the clothes we let him use.

Wasn't your fault, Chris, Buck said, familiar with the guilt he heard in his friend's voice.

Chris sighed.  I still need to find the kid.

Okay, I'll meet you at the office.

  Chris shut off the phone and turned to JD.  Did you hear anything last night?

JD said regretfully.  I checked on him at around one o'clock, when I got up to use the bathroom, and he was still sleeping.

That means he left sometime in the last few hours or so. Chris tapped his chin thoughtfully.  If he was walking, he may not have gotten all the way back to town yet.

Unless he hitched a ride, JD pointed out.  He might already be back wherever it is that he sleeps in the city.

Chris said.  But we know which neighborhoods he hangs out in, so it shouldn't take long to find him.

The two agents hurried off to get dressed, determined to find the missing boy.  

* * * * * * * * * *

A harsh noise woke Vin from a deep sleep, and he turned over to find Ezra lying curled on his side, trying hard to stifle a fit of coughing.  Pushing himself up, he crawled to the corner where they kept their medical supplies and rummaged around until he found a bottle of cough medicine.  Both he and Ezra had suffered colds last winter and always tried to keep some medicine on hand.

Here, Ez, Vin said, handing the bottle to his stricken friend.

Ezra rasped hoarsely.

You sound like shit, Vin said with a frown.

Ezra rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue – now stained red by the cough syrup – at him.

A quick check of the clock had Vin looking at Ezra's watch for confirmation.  It was almost eleven o'clock – long past the hour at which he usually awakened.  He must have been nearly as tired as Ezra when they finally got home last night.  

Vin turned back to his friend.  You feelin' okay?

Been better, Ezra said.

Thanks for comin' after me, Vin said, belatedly realizing he had not thanked his friend yet.

I wasn't about to leave you there, Ezra said.  Law enforcement officials are not always the nicest individuals, especially concerning people like us.

Vin agreed, having encountered his share of uncaring or belligerent police officers.  These guys were okay, though.

Ezra looked at him, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

Vin shrugged.  They gave me my own room to sleep in and were gonna let me ride the horses this weekend.  They weren't like none of the others.  He sighed.  'Course, they took my knife away when they brought me in.  I didn't get a chance to ask for it back.

We can get you another knife.,  Ezra said.  I'm simply glad they were decent people.  I was worried that you were being mistreated because of me.

Wasn't your fault, Vin insisted.  Just got caught in a bad situation, is all.  MacDermott's the one you should blame.

Ezra's face paled slightly at the mention of the drug dealer's name.  You are correct, I suppose.

Deciding to change the subject, Vin said, So, how'd you find me, anyway?

Ezra chuckled and haltingly explained everything he had done to locate Vin.

Shit, Ez, Vin said, shaking his head in admiration.  I should'a figured you were smart enough to find out where I was.

It wasn't that difficult, since I had Mr. Larabee's name to work with, Ezra said.

How did you know which room I was sleepin' in? Vin asked.  Would'a been interesting if you'd been caught peekin' in the wrong window.

I watched the house for a while, Ezra answered, and I even chanced a quick look into the living room to determine how many people were in the house with you.  You were apparently already in bed at that time, so I simply watched which lights came on when the other two went to bed.  Process of elimination.

I'm glad you found me, Vin said.  I was waitin' for the right time to take off.  They kept checkin' up on me night before last, and probably last night, too.  Figured I'd wait til they let their guard down a little more.  He smiled.  It's good to be home.

Ezra said, covering his mouth as he yawned widely.

Why don't you get some more sleep? Vin suggested.  I'll go get us something to eat.

Be careful, Vin, Ezra cautioned him.  If those agents are aware of your absence, they will probably be looking for you in this area.

Vin agreed with a sigh.  I figure we should both lay low for a while.  MacDermott's pals ain't gonna be too happy with neither of us right now, so we'd best avoid bein' seen.

Grimacing, Ezra nodded his agreement before dropping his head back onto his pillow and pulling the blankets up to his chin.

Changing into his clothes, Vin grabbed the still-damp twenty-dollar bill from Ezra's pocket and headed out the door.  His senses were especially alert, watching for any signs of law enforcement or MacDermott's associates.  During the time they had been living in their basement, both he and Ezra had been careful not to be seen entering or leaving.  It was much safer for them if no one knew where they lived.  Competition for places to sleep was fierce among the homeless, and they had worked hard to keep their home a secret.  They avoided associating with most of the other homeless people and their place was located somewhat outside of the popular area for others to congregate, which had allowed them to escape notice most of the time.

There did not seem to be anyone lurking about, so Vin hurried toward his destination, keeping to the shadows of the buildings while his eyes continuously scanned the area for any sign of a threat.  Upon reaching the diner, he took one last look around before ducking inside.  He took a seat at the counter and waited for Rosie to notice him.

Rosie exclaimed, rushing toward him.  Are you all right, dear?

I'm fine, Miz Rosie, Vin said, embarrassed by the fuss she was making.  

I was so worried about you when Ezra told me what happened, she said.  

Everything's all right now, ma'am, Vin reassured her.  Ezra found me and got me back home.

That's wonderful, Rosie said with a smile.  How is Ezra doing?  Poor boy looked a bit worse for wear yesterday.

He's got a cold now, Vin said.  Probably from bein' out in the rain last night.  I wanted to get some of your chicken soup for   He pulled the money from his pocket.

Rosie waved the money away.  You keep that, dear.  You both do more work than what I pay you for around here.  I'll fix you something nice.  Without giving him a chance to object, Rosie bustled off into her kitchen.

Vin grinned, shaking his head.  He hadn't expected that she would let him pay for anything, but he had to offer.  He looked around, checking the patrons of the bar for familiar faces.  At the other end of the counter, he spotted Mr. Watson, and decided to go talk to him.

Hi, Mr. Watson, Vin said.  Sorry I haven't been around the last couple of days.

Don't you worry about that, Vin, Mr. Watson said.  I heard about what happened.  I'm glad you boys are okay.

We're fine, sir, Vin said.  Just a case of bein' in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Mr. Watson nodded.  It's a shame about Digger.  He was a nice old fellow.

Vin agreed.

Can't say I'll much miss that lowlife, MacDermott, he said with a frown.  It's about time that hoodlum got what was coming to him. 

Me and Ez ain't gonna miss him, either, Vin said, a dark look flashing in his eyes.

Is Ezra feeling any better? Mr. Watson asked, his forehead wrinkling in concern.  His arm looked like it was hurting him some when he came by the shop yesterday.

He's doing better, Vin said.  Got himself a cold, though.

Well, you make sure he gets enough rest, Mr. Watson instructed.  Won't do himself any good if he pushes himself too soon.

I'll tell him, Vin said with a grin, knowing how embarrassed Ezra would be when he discovered that Mr. Watson and Rosie were worried about him.

Rosie came out of the kitchen with a big bag, looking around the diner for him.

Over here, Vin said with a wave.  

Rosie smiled and made her way toward him.  Here you go, dear.  She handed Vin the bag.  There's some hot soup and sandwiches for you and Ezra.  Placing one hand on her hip, she waved her finger at him, admonishing him sternly, You boys make sure you finish all of it.  

Yes, ma'am, Vin said, giving her a salute.  Thank you.

Go on, now. Rosie smiled, shooing him out the door.

Vin smiled to himself as he left the diner.  It was nice to have friends like Rosie and Mr. Watson.  In fact, he and Ezra had often wondered at the collection of good people in this neighborhood who went out of their way to help a couple of kids like them.  The proud and hardworking residents of the area were not wealthy, but they did the best they could to make their neighborhood comfortable and safe.  Interlopers like MacDermott nipped at the fringes of the area, looking for new inroads to ply their despicable trade.  It was difficult, but the people had managed to keep the worst of them at bay.  Still, it was a constant struggle, and there were some battles that they would not win, some who would be lost to the call of drugs and crime. 

Vin and Ezra counted themselves lucky to have found their way into this area instead of one of the more disreputable neighborhoods located only a short distance away.  Their lives would have been much more difficult without these fine people giving them a helping hand.  They would have survived, both of them being too stubborn to give up easily, even in the face of such adversity, but it would not have been an easy task.  Accepting help from the generous residents of the neighborhood had been quite an adjustment for them, since neither was used to people being nice to them without wanting something in return, but they both eventually learned to trust in the friendship being offered.

Shaking his musings away, Vin had just started across the street when he caught sight of a familiar black truck approaching from several blocks away.  he cursed aloud as he cast about wildly for a place to hide.  Seeing nothing that would conceal him, he turned back the way he came, pushing back inside Rosie's diner and into the kitchen in the back.

Back so soon, Vin? Rosie said, surprised to see him back.

There's some people looking for me, Vin explained.  I kind'a ran away from those ATF cops who picked me up the other night.

I see, Rosie said thoughtfully. What do they want with you?

They think I know who killed Digger, Vin explained after a moment's hesitation, not wanting to drag her into the situation.

Do you?

Um, sort of, Vin said tentatively, craning his neck to peer out the window for any sign of Larabee or his friends.  

Rosie looked at him sternly, waiting for an answer.

I didn't see it, but MacDermott killed Vin stated. 

And how do you know that? 

Vin sighed, looked at his feet, and said softly,  'Cause Ezra saw him do it.

Rosie said, beginning to understand.  And you don't want Ezra to have to tell them about it?

Vin said, then looked at her pleadingly. It ain't that I don't want MacDermott to pay for what he done, but Ez don't need to go through that.  It was rough enough on him, as it is... and they'd never let us stay together afterward, ya know?

Rosie's eyes softened as she looked at him and she said, You go on and hide in the back if you see them coming for you.

Thanks, ma'am, Vin said, feeling a flood of relief.  He didn't want to end up back in the clutches of the system, which was exactly what would happen if Larabee caught up with him, or if Ezra testified against MacDermott.  It wasn't fair to Digger, but Vin had learned long ago that life was rarely fair and that the bad guys often knew how to work the system in their favor, twisting it to suit their needs, while people like him and Ezra just ended up as its victims.  For them, the best thing to do was to stay under the radar of the law and those who might curtail their freedom or split them apart.  As far as he was concerned, Ezra was his brother, and brothers took care of each other.

* * * * * * * * * *

Vin's grinning face was the first thing Ezra saw when he lifted his head from his pillow.  Groaning, he dropped back into the softness.  

Want something to eat? Vin asked.

Not particularly, Ezra replied.  His throat was starting to hurt and the thought of trying to swallow anything was distinctly unappealing.

Rosie sent over some chicken soup and sandwiches. Vin pointed to the bag sitting on the table.  She'll be pissed if'n we don't eat it all.

Ezra sighed.  He certainly didn't want Rosie getting angry with him.  She had quite a temper and could wield a broom with the best of them.  Reluctantly, he dragged himself out of his warm bed and over to the table where Vin had laid out their meal.

Vin said, pushing a steaming bowl of soup in front of him.  

Ezra started in on the soup, relieved that it did not irritate his sore throat very much.  He passed on the sandwiches, though, telling Vin in a hoarse voice, You can have both.  My throat hurts too much to eat that.

Why don't we trade? Vin offered.  You have my share of the soup, instead.

Ezra nodded, thought he wasn't very hungry. He knew it would worry both Vin and Rosie if he didn't eat it all.

Saw Mr. Watson at the diner, Vin said conversationally. He was askin' about ya, too – hoped you were feeling better.

Ezra lifted an eyebrow as if to say, _Yeah, right._

Vin shook his head in exasperation.  Ezra still seemed to have trouble believing that anyone cared about him.  While both of them had led a hard life, Vin had at least experienced the luxury of a caring mother and some wonderful foster parents, even if only for a short time.  From what Ezra had told him, there were few, if any, people in his past who had ever cared about him or wanted him around.  Even his own mother had abandoned him, so it was no surprise that he had difficulty believing anyone else gave a damn about what happened to him.  It had even taken Vin a long time to convince him that he was a real friend who wouldn't ditch him at the earliest opportunity.

They were worried, Ez, Vin repeated.  Mr. Watson told me to make sure you got plenty of rest.

Ezra shrugged, his cheeks reddening slightly at the thought of the concern being directed at him.

Some bad news, though, Vin said. I saw Larabee's truck drivin' around the neighborhood.

Ezra's head snapped up and he looked at Vin with alarm, opening his mouth to speak.

Vin cut him off before he could say a word.  Don't worry, he didn't see me.  Rosie let me hide in back when they drove by.  He dropped his head slightly, sending Ezra a guilty look.  I had to tell her why they were lookin' for me – told her about what you saw.

Ezra's eyes widened in surprise, then he nodded, reaching out to squeeze Vin's arm in support.  It's okay.  You did what you had to.

Rosie understands, I think, Vin said.  She won't tell em anything.

I agree, Ezra said.  I don't believe she cares much for the police.

Vin grinned.  Yeah.  I'll just have to be real careful when I go out.

Ezra shook his head.  You should stay here, where it's safe.

Vin said with a sigh.  One of us has to go out for food and stuff, and there's still work to be done.

Ezra began to shake his head and protest, but Vin would not be dissuaded.

You ain't goin' anywhere, Ez, Vin stated adamantly.  You're too sick to be out working and in case you forgot, MacDermott's friends might come lookin' for you, too... and you ain't in any condition to fight em off.

It's not safe to be out on your own, Ezra pleaded.

I'll be careful, Ez, Vin assured him.  I can be real sneaky when I want, remember?

Ezra sighed, knowing he would not win this argument.  All right, but I want to go to the library with you later.

Tomorrow, Ez, Vin countered.  You need some rest.

Chewing his lip pensively, Ezra finally gave him a slow nod.   he said, holding out his hand with a weak smile.

Vin agreed, shaking his best friend's hand.

**TBC**

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Mean Streets**

**Part 6**

* * *

* * * * * * * * * * 

Chris returned to his office and slumped into his chair.  Buck entered his office shortly after, slouching comfortably in the visitor's chair.

No sign of him anywhere, Chris said.

Did you really expect to find him? Buck asked.

Chris shrugged.  I was hoping...  I just can't figure it.  I thought he liked staying with me.  What could be better about being out there?  He gestured futilely toward the window.

Buck rubbed his mustache thoughtfully.  It's what he knows, Chris.  He don't trust the system, and like it or not, that's what you – all of us – are to him.  He shrugged.  Been my experience that kids who don't trust usually have a pretty good reason.

Chris leaned back in his chair. His file said he was a repeat runaway – kept taking off from his foster homes, claiming they were abusive.  There was never any proof, though.

Don't mean it wasn't true, Buck pointed out.  Kid was awful leery about being touched.

Chris said. I still need to find him.  He knows something about Digger, I can feel it.

You're probably right, Buck commiserated.  But if he's as smart as Josiah thinks he is, then he's probably long gone.

I know, I just... Chris lifted his hands in a helpless gesture.

Me too, pard, Buck said sympathetically. Me too.

* * * * * * * * * * 

The coast was clear.  Vin breathed a sigh of relief and rapidly made his way across the street.  Several of MacDermott's drug-dealing minions had been walking down the street and he had almost been too late in spotting them.  Luckily, they were not very observant and he had been able to hide behind a delivery truck until they passed him by.  

He had already gone by Mr. Watson's hardware store and Mrs. Chan's flower shop to do the daily cleaning, and was now on his way to Miss Opal's beauty salon.  Since Ezra was going to be out of commission for a few days, Vin was determined to cover both of their work schedules.  It wasn't much of a hardship, since the cleaning chores didn't take that long.  The shop owners were all very understanding and wished Ezra the best, giving Vin advice on how to treat his cold. 

Chuckling, Vin patted the outer pocket of his backpack, stuffed with the packets of tea that Mrs. Chan had insisted that he take to Ezra.  Good for sick, she had said, determinedly pressing the tea into his hands.  

Mr. Watson had also provided his own cold remedy, handing Vin a paper bag containing a bottle of brandy.  A few sips before bedtime, he had quietly explained.  Does the trick every time.  My grandpa swore by it; gave it to me any time I had a cold.  

Vin had accepted both offerings graciously, looking forward to Ezra's reaction.  His friend was always embarrassed by this kind of attention and Vin was determined to take advantage of the opportunity to tease him.  It was sweet revenge for the fussing he had endured after having his nose broken in defense of Mr. Watson last year.  Ezra had made sure to tell everyone what a heroic effort Vin had made, leaving him completely mortified by the attention the admiring shop owners lavished on him in the aftermath.  

As he pushed through the door to Miss Opal's, Vin wondered what the heavyset African-American shop owner would have to suggest.  She was a colorful and energetic woman, with her own unique way of looking at things that both boys often found entertaining, if not downright amusing.  

  Miss Opal, clad in a brightly-colored African print pant suit, rushed toward him the moment he stepped through the door.  Lord, it's good to see you, boy!  She wrapped him in a huge hug.

M'fine, Miss Opal, Vin said, his voice muffled as he tried to speak while pressed against her ample bosom.

Mr. Benevito told me all about what's been happenin' with you an' Ezra, the big woman said after she finally released him.  How's my favorite Georgia boy doin'?

Vin grinned.  Early in their association, Miss Opal had decided that Ezra was from Georgia, despite his protests of having spent only a little bit of time in that part of the south.  Being from Virginia, she insisted she could recognize a Georgia accent when she heard one.  When Rosie had approached her about letting the two boys work for her, she had not hesitated, claiming that, Us southern folk have to stick together.  Since then, Ezra had been her Georgia boy' and Vin was her Texas cowboy.'

Ezra's okay, Vin explained.  He's got himself a cold, though, so he won't be around for a couple days.

Oh, that poor boy, Miss Opal said.  Come with me.  I have just the thing.  Leaving her assistant in charge of the last customer of the day, she shuffled into the back room and began rummaging through her cabinets.  

I'll get started on the windows, Vin offered, heading for the closet that held the cleaning supplies.

Miss Opal waved at him absently, muttering to herself as she pulled things from the cabinet and stacked them on the counter.  Vin had just finished cleaning the windows, when he heard a triumphant shout behind him.

I knew it was here somewhere!  Miss Opal hurried out to the front of the store, a jar clutched tightly in her hands.  This is my Gramma Eunice's special cold remedy.  You just heat it up an' rub it on your chest.  Makes that cold disappear. She smiled broadly and snapped her fingers.  Jus' like that.  Works like a charm.

Thank ya, ma'am, Vin said, stifling a smile.  I know Ez will appreciate it.

Make sure you take this with you when you leave, ya hear?

Yes, ma'am, Vin replied, stashing the jar in his backpack with the rest of the cold remedies he had acquired that day.  Returning the window cleaner to the closet, Vin pulled out the broom and started sweeping the floor, while Miss Opal returned to her customer, putting the final touches on her new hair style.

A half hour later, Vin had finished cleaning the hair salon and had just started toward home, when he spotted Larabee's black truck driving slowly down the street.  He started to duck, but was too late, his eyes locking with Larabee's for a long moment.  Pulling himself together, he turned on his heel and sprinted down the street, searching his memory for the best escape route.  Vin turned to look, grimacing when he saw the truck bearing down on him.

He knew the area well – hopefully well enough to elude Larabee, who had abandoned the truck as soon as Vin turned into the narrow alley, and was following hard on his heels.  Pivoting on one foot, Vin turned a corner, crossing the street and ducking into another filthy alleyway.  A taxi horn blared behind him as Larabee narrowly avoided being hit as he followed Vin's path across the street.  

Turning another corner, Vin felt his heart pounding in his ears as he ran.   A smirk lit his face as he saw Larabee trying to make his way around the city bus that had pulled in front of him, spewing smelly diesel fumes as it lumbered slowly down the street.  He drew on his reserves and ran as fast as he could, a destination clear in his mind.  The bus had slowed his pursuer, maybe enough to allow him to escape.  Rounding a corner, he immediately darted behind the Chinese restaurant that stood there, heading straight for the far end of the small parking lot. 

The grate that covered the storm drain was loose, and Vin was thin enough to fit through the narrow space.  It was an escape route he had used in the past – not very frequently, since he was somewhat claustrophobic if he had to spend much time in enclosed spaces.  But, it wasn't a place most people would consider looking, and thus, was the safest place to be in this kind of situation.  With one last look behind him, Vin slipped into the storm drain, dropping into the dark and slimy pipe.  

* * * * * * * * * * 

Chris Larabee cursed in frustration.  It had been a spur of the moment decision to take a detour through this neighborhood on his way home.  He hadn't really expected to see the Tanner kid, agreeing with Buck that he was probably long gone from the area, so he had been completely stunned when he spotted him walking around in plain view.  Now, though, he stood panting for breath, kicking himself for losing the boy.  Tanner had disappeared into thin air, and judging by the full backpack he was carrying, probably for good.  Chris figured he was on his way out of town when he saw him walking down the street.

It took an hour of searching before he finally gave up looking for Tanner.  The kid had well and truly disappeared and Chris knew he wasn't going to find him this night.  Taking one last look around, Chris heaved a sigh of resignation and climbed back into his truck.  

His mind wandered on the ride home.  What was it about Vin Tanner that intrigued him so?  Chris had seen his share of runaways and street kids during his years with the police department and had long ago realized that they were usually a lost cause.  Most ended up dead or in prison, lured into crime and drugs by the vultures who preyed upon them, using them until they had no more to give.  It was a sad and brutal fact of life in this world and one he had come to terms with long ago.

As a member of law enforcement, he had learned to harden himself against the depressing situations he encountered in his job.  It was the only way to do this kind of work without burning out.  But something about Tanner had struck a chord with him.  There was something in the kid's eyes that he had never seen in a street kid before.  Vin Tanner had pride.  By the time he encountered most of those kids, any pride or sense of self worth they might have had was long destroyed.  But not Tanner.  The fact that there was no police record for him since he had last run away told Chris volumes about the boy.  It either meant that he had managed to stay away from trouble or had simply been smart enough to avoid being caught.  Something told Chris it was the former. 

Chris chuckled to himself.  Buck had seen it right away.  Tanner had gotten to him and Chris felt something deep within him stirring, getting past the barriers he erected against his emotions.  Something made him care what happened to the boy and he found himself wanting to help him any way he could.  Unfortunately, it was probably too late.  Tanner was gone, and Chris felt strangely disappointed that he had not gotten to know him better.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Night had fallen by the time Vin felt it was safe enough to leave the sewers.  Crawling out of the dark hole, he breathed deeply of the fresh air and started toward home, watching the streets with a intensity that bordered on paranoia as he took a meandering route back toward his basement apartment.  Once he arrived, he opened the door quickly, slipping inside with an almost giddy sense of relief.

Ezra croaked hoarsely.  What's wrong?

Vin set his backpack down, giving his friend a crooked grin.  Ran into Larabee again.  Had to play hide n seek with im in the sewer.  He looked at his soiled clothing and grimaced.  Guess I need to take a trip to the laundry tomorrow.

Ezra protested in as loud a voice as he could manage.  It's too dangerous.

Ez, it's always dangerous, Vin said with a sigh.  There's always a chance someone'll find us, but we've managed this long.  Hell, I got away from him, didn't I?

Please, Vin, Ezra pleaded.  I just don't want you to get hurt.

Me neither, Vin said.  But we can't just stay locked up in here forever.

I'll go out tomorrow, Ezra insisted.  The police aren't interested in me.

You're sick, Ez, Vin argued.  You need to stay here.

I'm fine. Ezra covered his mouth as another coughing fit struck.

Yeah, you sure sound fine to me, Vin said sarcastically.

Ezra glared at him and Vin shook his head, digging in his backpack for the collection of home remedies he had been given.  Got somethin' for ya.  He gave the items to Ezra, who looked at them in consternation.

Mrs. Chan gave me the tea for you, Vin explained.  Said it's good for when you're sick.  Mr. Watson gave me the brandy – his grandfather's favorite cold medicine, he says.  Pointing to the jar, which contained a muddy brown substance, he said,  Miz Opal sent that along.  Says it's her grandma's recipe.  You're supposed to heat it up an' rub it on your chest.

Ezra eyed the jar for a moment before opening it and taking a tentative sniff.  His eyes watered and he started to cough again.  I don't think so.

Vin leaned closer, then backed away from the stench that wafted from the jar.  Damn!  Smells like boiled skunk.

Ezra agreed, chuckling at the appropriate comparison.  

Vin started to laugh as well.  She just wanted to help.  They all did.

I think I'll try the tea, first, Ezra said, his cheeks flushing red in embarrassment at the gestures of kindness.

Still chuckling, Vin plugged in the hot plate and set a pan of water to boil.  You feelin' any better?

Ezra said.

Stripping out of his dirty clothes, Vin quickly donned a clean pair of pants and a sweatshirt.  I'm gonna borrow your coat, okay?  Mine's real dirty.

Where are you going?

Don't know about you, but I'm hungry, Vin said.  I'm gonna go get us some dinner.

It's a little early to go Antonio's, Ezra said, speaking of Mr. Benevito's Italian restaurant.  He doesn't close up for a few hours yet.

I know, Vin said.  I'm going there later, but I wanted to get something for you before then, so you can get some more sleep.

I've been sleeping most of the day, Ezra protested.  I can wait until later.

Ez, you can hardly keep your eyes open, Vin pointed out.  You know how bein' sick always makes you tired.

I'm not the only one, Ezra countered.  I seem to remember you sleeping for a couple of days straight last time you got sick.

Vin said smugly.  That's why I know how tired y'are.

Ezra rolled his eyes, but gave up on the argument.  He really _was _tired and he knew he didn't have the energy to win this particular battle.

I'll be back in a little bit, Vin said.  And, yes,  I'll be careful.

Ezra nodded, turning to pour his tea once the door closed behind Vin.  The last few days had left him in a perpetually worried state with regards to his friend.  Vin was the first and only friend he had ever had and he was afraid to lose him.  No one had ever taken the time to get to know him, the real Ezra Standish.  He had spent his life being ignored or used by everyone, including his own mother, so he had not known how to deal with someone like Vin, who actually cared about him as a person.

It was strange, having a friend to stand by his side.  Ezra had been alone for most of his life, depending on no one.  He had learned quickly that other people could – and would – let you down, so he simply refused to trust anyone other than himself.  Until Vin came along, the concept of friendship had been as foreign to him as the idea of a loving family.  The quiet, loyal Texan had changed all that.

In Vin, Ezra had found a kindred spirit – someone who understood him and didn't judge him or use him for his own ends.  Vin simply gave him friendship without asking for anything in return, and Ezra found himself returning the gesture, slowly allowing himself to open up to this strange new kinship.  He and Vin had become close friends, brothers even, and Ezra was not going to give that up for all the gold in the world.  Or all the tea in China, he whispered to himself, smiling as he sipped the fragrant tea Mrs. Chan had supplied.  

Vin returned twenty minutes after he had left, carrying a small grocery sack.  

What's for dinner? Ezra asked with a smile.

Got us some eggs and bread and some other stuff, Vin said, shrugging out of the borrowed coat.  Figured I'd whip us up some omelettes.

Ezra nodded, knowing that Vin had chosen their meal based on what would be easiest for him to eat with a sore throat.  Thank you.

Vin waved away the thanks and started preparing their dinner. No problem.

Ezra watched him cut some mushrooms and cheese and wondered what he had ever done to deserve  a good friend like Vin Tanner.  

* * * * * * * * * * 

Ms. Peterson exclaimed when he walked into the library with Ezra.  She gave them a pleased, but puzzled look.  What happened?

Ez found me, Vin said simply.  

Ms. Peterson gave Ezra a hard look and he flinched slightly under the scrutiny.  Do I want to know the details?

Probably not, Ezra said in a sheepish whisper.

You sound awful, she said, her voice tinged with worry.  You should be home in bed.

That's what I told him, Vin said, ignoring the glare Ezra sent in his direction.

How's the arm? she asked Ezra, who was wearing the sling at Vin's insistence.

Not bad, Ezra replied.

Why don't you boys go sit down, she directed.  I have some new books for you.

Thank you, ma'am. Vin nudged his friend..  Come on, Ez.  The two boys headed for their favorite corner of the library.

We should resume our studies, Ezra suggested.  It wouldn't do to fall behind our schedule.

Long as you rest your voice, Vin said.  I can work on some math today.  Don't need as much help with that.

Ezra nodded in agreement as Ms. Peterson returned.  

The librarian handed them four somewhat worn textbooks.  An old teacher friend of mine gave me these, she explained.  The school changed to a new book vendor this year so she can't use these any more.  They're teacher's editions, with the accompanying answer guides.  She looked at them sternly.  I'll let you have those, too, if you promise to use them properly.

We will, ma'am, Vin said sincerely.

Indeed, we will, Ezra agreed.  

Ms. Peterson smiled warmly at them.  That's what I thought.  I'll bring them over in a few minutes.  I have to prepare for story hour.

Ezra looked up at her guiltily.  My apologies...

Hush, now. The librarian held up her hand to stop the forthcoming apology.  It's not your fault.  In fact, you probably caught that cold from some of the children.  Many of them have been home sick this week.   

Bein' out in the rain didn't help none, either, Vin said.

I imagine it didn't.  Ms. Peterson frowned at Ezra, who slumped lower in his seat.  I hope you're getting enough rest?

Ezra nodded vigorously.

He slept all day yesterday and he's been taking cold medicine, Vin assured her.

Good.   I expected you boys were smart enough to be sensible.  She returned to her desk, leaving them to their books.  

Four hours and several stifled coughing fits later, Ezra finally admitted to being too weary to continue.  Vin agreed and the two boys gathered up their new books and prepared to leave, stopping by the main desk before they did.

All done for today? Ms. Peterson asked with a smile.  

Yes, ma'am, Vin replied.  Got some work to do and Ez is gettin' a little tired.

Ezra rolled his eyes, but did not disagree.

I'll see you boys tomorrow? she inquired.

We'll be here, Vin promised.  

Ezra nodded, then turned to follow Vin out the door.

Take care of that cold, Ezra, Ms. Peterson called after the two boys.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Frowning, Vin watched Ezra attempt to stifle his coughing again.  He shook his head.  He had wanted Ezra to go directly home, while he went to the flower shop and beauty parlor to do the daily cleaning, but the other boy wouldn't hear of it, insisting he felt well enough to do his share.  After arguing good-naturedly for a while, Vin finally gave in to his stubborn friend, though he did make sure to do the heavier chores, like cleaning the floors, while Ezra washed windows and counters.  Both Mrs. Chan and Miss Opal had attempted to talk him into going home, but Ezra refused, determined to carry his own weight.  Now, though, the exertion was taking its toll, evidenced by the increasing frequency of his coughing fits and the pallor in his face.  Vin was glad they were finished with the chores, since he was anxious to get Ezra home to rest.

All done, Mrs. Chan, Vin proclaimed, stowing the cleaning supplies.

Thank you, Vin. The diminutive woman patted him on the arm before turning to Ezra. You go home now.  Sleep.

Ezra smiled at her.  I intend to, ma'am.

They left the shop a few minutes later, carrying another packet of tea bags.  

You look done in, Ez, Vin remarked.

I'm a bit tired, Ezra admitted.

I'll make us some more omelettes after we get home, Vin said.  Don't think you'll last long enough to wait for Mr. Benevito's minestrone soup.

Ezra laughed.  Probably not.  He and Vin turned the corner and walked straight into trouble.  

Leo Jones was Jerry MacDermott's lieutenant, the oldest and smartest of his motley group of employees.'  He was tall and thin, with greasy hair and a sallow complexion, looking older than his years from the abuse of the same drugs he peddled to others.  Behind him, stood four more of MacDermott's crew, all staring at the two younger boys with the same hostile expressions.

Well, well, Jones said, a yellow-toothed grin splitting his face.  If it isn't the two troublemakers.

The rest of the boys quickly spread out and surrounded Ezra and Vin.

You caused us lots of problems, Jones continued, cracking his knuckles as he stared malevolently at them.  You got Mac busted and now we ain't got no fuckin' product to sell.  He paced in front of them.  We can't even contact him yet to find out about the new business he was workin' on.  You little shits cost us plenty, and that means you got to pay.

We didn't do anything, Vin said heatedly.  If MacDermott had been able to keep it in his pants, he wouldn't be in this mess.  Feeling Ezra flinch beside him, Vin met his eyes and sent him a silent apology.  

The slight flicker in Jones' eyes was the only warning they had before the man lashed out, planting a fist firmly into Vin's face and setting off the rest of his friends.  The brawl was on in earnest.  Ezra and Vin held their own for a while, but Ezra's illness and the superior number of their opponents slowly overwhelmed them.  

They were both on the ground, being kicked and beaten, when the wailing of sirens became audible.  As one, the group stopped fighting, then immediately scattered, disappearing into the night.  Vin and Ezra lay on the ground, trying to catch their breath as the sirens drew closer.

Gotta... move, Ez, Vin panted, rolling onto his side.

Ezra nodded, trying to find a way to stand that wasn't excruciatingly painful.

Ezra and Vin slowly pulled themselves to their feet, clinging to each other for support, then staggered away, making their way toward home as quickly as they were able.  They had not survived this long by giving up easily and were not going to allow themselves to fall into the clutches of the police, no matter how battered their condition.  It took them twice as long as usual, but finally they arrived at the basement they called home and stumbled through the door, locking it securely behind them.

Grimacing, Vin slipped out of his backpack, letting it drop to the floor.  Ezra, who had not carried his pack due to his injured shoulder, simply collapsed onto their mattress, moaning in pain.  Vin shrugged out of his coat, then crawled painfully over to his friend.

How bad? Vin asked.

Don't know, Ezra replied, his good arm wrapped around his midsection.  Everything hurts.

Me too, Vin admitted, rolling gingerly onto his back beside Ezra.  Think I got a busted rib.  He shifted uncomfortably, then winced.  Maybe two.

Ezra just groaned.

Neither boy felt like moving and soon, both fell into a restless, uncomfortable sleep.  

* * * * * * * * * * 

He was staring out across the lake, unaware that the fishing pole in his hands was twitching and jerking.

I think you got a bite there, Chris, Buck pointed out.

Chris turned his head, finally noticing the hyperactive fishing pole. Oh, thanks.  He jerked back sharply on the pole, then reeled in the fish, grinning at the sight of the shiny creature twisting and flopping on the end of his line.

Nice one, Chris, Buck commented, strolling up to his friend.

Not bad. Chris tossed the fish into the cooler they had brought along.  Good start on dinner, anyway.

Buck grinned, squatting beside him.  Little slow on the uptake, though.

Chris turned to glare at him.

You seem a little distracted today, pard, Buck remarked quietly, unfazed by the look.

Blowing out a breath, Chris turned to look out at the lake again.

Still thinkin' about the kid?

Chris lowered his head.  Some.  Saw him again Thursday.

Buck exclaimed, startled by that piece of information.  Where did this happen?

I took a drive through that neighborhood before headin' home that night, Chris explained.  Spotted him walking down the street.

Took off after Chris said simply.  He spotted me and ran off.  Kid's pretty fast.  I lost him a few minutes later.

Why didn't you say anything?

Chris shrugged.  Wouldn't help anything.  The kid was carrying a backpack, probably on his way out of town.

We figured he wouldn't stick around long.

I was surprised as hell to see him there, Chris said with a rueful shake of his head.  You should'a seen the look on his face when he spotted me.

Ya can't save em all, Chris, Buck said gently, sensing his friend's dilemma.  Sure, Chris claimed he wanted to find the Tanner kid because of Digger, but Buck knew better.  He had seen his friend like this before.

I know, Buck. Chris sighed wistfully.  But saving one might be nice.

We save a hell of a lot more than that, Chris, Buck stated earnestly.  Think of the lives we save every time we take a gun off the streets and out of the hands of a gangbanger.

Yeah, but...

No buts, Chris, Buck interrupted, then said softly.  He isn't Brian.

Chris flinched at the name, fighting the memories that pushed forward.  

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

__

_Chris had been with the police department for five years, partnered with Buck for three.  They were checking an old, dilapidated warehouse, one of the known gathering points for the homeless in the area.  On this day, they found a few new faces and made a point to check them out.  One in particular caught Chris's attention.  The skinny, red-haired boy glared at them defiantly when they approached his home', a dirty collection of cardboard boxes piled against the crumbling brick wall.  _

_Hey there, Chris said to the boy, who didn't look a day over twelve years old._

_What do you want, cop? the boy said belligerently.  I didn't do nothin'._

_Just checkin' the area, Chris said.  Haven't seen you around here before._

_I been around, the boy grumbled._

_What's you're name, kid? Buck asked._

_The boy just glared at him, not saying a word._

_Have to call you something, Buck shrugged.  How about _

_That works, Chris agreed with a smile, then turned to the boy.  Unless you have something else you'd prefer?_

_Do you, shithead? Buck prodded._

_ the boy said through clenched teeth.  _

_Well, that does sound a little better than shithead, I suppose, Chris said.  So what are you doing out here, Brian?_

__

_You got any family?  Buck asked._

_ Brian answered, a little too quickly, his eyes darting around nervously._

_I see, Buck said.  Well, that means we need to find one for you.  Why don't you come along with us, now son._

_ Brian shouted, ducking under Buck's outstretched arm.  He turned to run, only to find his path blocked by Chris._

_Come on, Brian, Chris said soothingly, trying to control the struggling youth._

_No, please, Brian pleaded.  They don't care about me.  No one cares._

_It's better than being out here in the cold, Buck said.  Isn't it?_

_After a few minutes, the boy went limp, giving up the struggle and resigning himself to his fate.  He didn't say another word as Buck and Chris drove him back to the police station and called Social Services.  _

_Watching the boy leave with the social worker, Chris mused, What makes a kid choose the streets over a home?_

_Not all homes are like Leave it to Beaver', ya know? Buck said sagely._

_I know, Chris said.  But the streets aren't any picnic, either._

_During the next few years, Brian became a repeat customer.  For reasons he kept to himself, he would run away from his foster homes, and Chris and Buck would bring him back in.  Each time they saw him, he seemed to lose a little more of himself, grow a little more hardened against the rest of the world.  Until the day they brought him in for the last time._

_Wasn't anything we could do, Buck said to his friend as they watched the body bag being loaded into the morgue van.  _

_There had to be something, Chris said.  He shouldn't have ended up this way.  He turned sad eyes to Buck.  No kid should have to die in a filthy rat hole like this._

_We did our best, Buck said helplessly, the same anguish reflected in his own face.  Sometimes it's just not enough.  _

_Chris watched the morgue van drive away on this gray, rainy day and whispered,  It should be._

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Chris?  You still with me, pard?

Yeah, Buck, Chris said rubbing his hand over his face.  Just thinkin'.

'Bout Brian?

Chris acknowledged.  Don't want to see another kid end up like him.

You said yourself, Tanner is different, Buck said.  Maybe he'll be one of the lucky ones who makes it.

I hope so, Buck.  Chris gave his friend a weak smile.  Come on, let's get back to the others.

Buck squeezed his old friend's shoulder in support as they took their fishing poles further down the shore to where the rest of their friends were setting up their picnic lunch.

**TBC**

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Mean Streets**

**Part 7**

* * *

* * * * * * * * * * 

Vin pried his left eye open, wondering why the right one wasn't cooperating.  Slowly, he raised his hand and touched the eye in question, finding it swollen and tender.

Aw hell, Vin mumbled through thick lips.  Carefully, he rolled his head to the side to check on Ezra.  The other boy lay on his back, his face a mass of bruises and dried blood.  From the way he felt, Vin imagined that he didn't look much better.  Gingerly, he pushed himself up into a seated position, clutching at his ribs tightly.  He had suffered broken ribs before: once, at the hands of a violent foster father; another time, as a result of a fight with some other kids over his accidental intrusion onto their turf.'  

Vin knew what broken ribs felt like, and though his friend hadn't said anything, he suspected Ezra had experience with them as well.  He had seen the scars his friend carried on his back and knew the likely cause, since he wore similar scars himself.  In fact, he suspected he and Ezra had gained some of those marks at the same place.  Their last foster father had been a big fan of spare the rod and spoil the child' and had relished using his belt – and whatever other implements struck his fancy on any given day – with great frequency.  

Clicking on the lamp by their bed, he reached over slowly and gave Ezra a gentle shake.  Ez.  Wake up.

Ezra moaned and rolled away from him, the motion causing him greater pain.  he groaned in a harsh whisper.

How you feelin'? Vin asked.

Ezra replied.  I feel like I've been run over by a bus.

Vin snorted softly.  Ain't too far off.  We got stomped pretty good.

Ezra shifted slightly and attempted to sit up with little success.  I believe I may have damaged some ribs.

Yeah, me too, Vin commiserated.  Stay there.  I'll get the first aid kit.  With much effort, he crawled to the corner where they kept the cardboard box full of medical supplies.  Gripping it tightly, he dragged it over to the bed and started to rummage through it.

Ezra said hoarsely.

Nodding, Vin pulled out the bottle, tipping several into his hand.  Hang on and I'll get us some water.

Ezra didn't wait, swallowing the pills dry.

Rolling his eyes, Vin did the same, deciding that the water could wait.  Next, he pulled out a couple rolls of ace bandages.  He reached to undo his shirt, startled when he found he was still wearing his coat – they must have been beyond exhausted when they returned last night.  Despite his swollen and sore wrist, he finally managed to strip off his shirt and carefully wrap his ribs.  It wasn't a perfect job, but it would have to do.

Ez, can you get your shirt off?

Ezra groaned and reached for his clothing.  Vin helped him remove his coat, supporting his shoulder, which ached almost as much as when he'd first dislocated it.  It took some time, but they eventually got Ezra's ribs wrapped as well.

Leaning back into his pillows, Ezra suddenly started to cough, clutching his ribs while his face contorted in agony.  The coughing finally subsided, leaving Ezra pale and gasping for breath.  he said hoarsely.  That hurts.

Vin watched him, wincing sympathetically with each wracking cough.  Geez, Ez.  Is there anything I can do to help?

Cough medicine, Ezra whispered.  

Without hesitation, Vin reached for the bottle of red liquid, opening it before he handed it to his friend. 

Ezra grabbed the bottle, taking several swallows before handing it back to Vin, who stowed it back in the box.  Leaning back against the wall, Vin glanced casually at the clock.  It was nearly nine AM – another late morning for him.  With a delicate sigh, he pulled himself to his feet.  Hungry or not, he and Ezra needed to eat, especially since they had missed dinner last night.  He could make them some eggs, but he knew that, given recent events, Rosie would be worried if neither of them showed up at the diner.

Ez, I'm gonna head over to Rosie's, Vin announced.  You want anything special?

Ezra rasped.

Vin pulled the blanket over Ezra before climbing painfully to his feet.  Easing into his coat, he called, I'll be back soon.

Ezra grunted softly in reply as Vin stepped through the door.

Limping slightly, Vin walked slowly toward the diner, wincing as new aches and pains made themselves known.  He and Ezra had been lucky the police had scared MacDermott's goons away, otherwise they would both be in much worse shape.  Vin considered their situation with a frown.  Between the police and MacDermott, it was becoming dangerous for them to show their faces outside of their apartment.  Whenever something like this had happened to them before, they had simply moved on, finding another place to live.  But this time was different.  They had a good thing going here, with a nice place to live, jobs to provide them some income, and people who watched out for them.  It would be next to impossible to find all of that somewhere else.  Vin sighed, hoping all of this trouble would blow over soon.  He really didn't want to leave.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra awoke to the sound of the door opening, smiling weakly as Vin walked into the room.  

How you feelin'? Vin asked.

Ezra lifted an eyebrow, possibly the only part of him that didn't hurt, and gave Vin a dirty look.

Vin chuckled dryly.  Yeah, me too. 

What did Rosie send along today? Ezra inquired, pointing at the bag Vin was carrying.

Eggs and pancakes, Vin said.  She figured neither of us can eat anything that takes much effort.  He shook his head in consternation.  She wouldn't even let me mop the floors.  Took one look at me and dragged me over to a seat.  It was all I could do to keep her from haulin' me to the clinic.

Ezra nodded, remembering the similar treatment he had received after injuring his shoulder.

She wants to see you tomorrow, Vin warned.  I think she's worried about ya.

I shall put in an appearance, then, Ezra said in a hoarse whisper.

Need a hand gettin' up?

Ezra said with a grin.

Vin helped him to his feet and the two boys sat gratefully at their table, digging in to the breakfast Rosie had provided.  Ezra was grateful for the soft food, both for his sore throat and his aching jaw.  Jones and his friends had gotten in some solid blows and Ezra was glad that the bruises were the worst of the damage to his face.  The last time he had gotten into such a knock-down drag-out fight, he had lost a tooth.  He counted himself fortunate to have been able to indulge himself in a gold replacement after a particularly profitable night of playing poker, but wasn't looking to add any more carats to his smile.  Thankfully, his teeth had survived this brawl intact.

For once, Vin didn't devour his food, eating it slowly and carefully to make certain that his stomach would not rebel.  Ezra followed suit, glad that his own system was receptive to the meal, since the alternative was too painful to contemplate.  They both finished at the same time, then leaned back to look at each other's battered faces.

Ezra grinned.  We are a sight, aren't we?

No joke, Vin agreed.  I think I'm just going to stay here and sleep all day.  I hurt too much to do anything else

Ezra said, already eyeing the mattress.

The two boys made their way back to their makeshift bed, lying down with a chorus of pained groans until they finally drifted off to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next morning, Vin and Ezra reluctantly put in their requested appearance at Rosie's diner, to alleviate the woman's concerns.  Ezra's cold had worsened, robbing him of his voice entirely while his coughing fits grew more frequent and severe, inducing more fussing from the diner's proprietor.  They kept their visit short, but by the time they returned to their apartment, Ezra was pale and struggling to contain the coughs that sent pain ripping through his ribcage.  Rosie had sent them home with some of her homemade chicken soup, but Ezra turned it down, claiming he wasn't hungry.  

The two boys spent the day in much the same way as the one before: napping or reading quietly in their apartment.  Neither felt much like going out, especially if it meant running into MacDermott's associates again.  Worried, Vin was planning to stay in the rest of the night, to keep an eye on his friend, but Ezra insisted he was fine and didn't need any babysitting, so he went to Antonio's that night as usual, restricting himself to lighter chores in deference to his injured ribs.  When he returned, Ezra was sleeping soundly, much to his relief.  Treading quietly so as not to disturb the other boy, Vin changed into his sleepwear and crawled into the bed.  

It was the middle of the night when Vin awakened suddenly.  Tensing, he listened carefully for whatever had disturbed him.  Beside him, Ezra moaned and thrashed his head, gasping for breath.

Vin said, leaning over his friend.  His frown deepened at the heat he felt coming off of the other boy.  Ezra had a fever, but it was his labored breathing that had Vin most concerned.  His colds had never sounded that bad before.

Wake up, Ez, Vin said in a loud voice, giving his sleeping friend a shake.

Ezra whispered, looking dazedly at Vin.

Get up, Vin said insistently, slapping Ezra's face gently when it looked like he was going back to sleep.  We need to get you to a doctor.

Ezra mumbled incoherently, while Vin struggled to get him dressed in shoes and a coat.  Looking at the clock, he grimaced.  At twelve-thirty in the morning, the free clinic was closed, leaving him only one option.  Retrieving some money from their lock box, Vin pulled on his own coat and guided his ill friend out the door.  Down the block was a pay phone, where he put in a call for a taxi.  The many bars in the area were still open, so getting a cab to come to the neighborhood wouldn't be too difficult, even at this late hour.  

Propping Ezra up against the wall with his shoulder, Vin leaned back and waited for the taxi to arrive.

* * * * * * * * * *

The emergency room was fairly quiet, typical for a late Sunday night.  Vin half-carried Ezra down the hall, ignoring his own pain while he tried to get help for his friend.  After settling Ezra into a chair, he approached the nurse's station.

Excuse me, he asked the nurse behind the counter.  My brother's sick.  He needs to see a doctor.

The nurse looked beyond him to Ezra, who was in the middle of a nasty fit of coughing.

Is someone here with you? she asked as she lifted the telephone.

Our aunt is out of town until tomorrow, Vin said, using their usual cover story.  I didn't think he could wait.  He's havin' a hard time breathin'.

We'll take care of him, sweetie, the gray-haired woman said kindly.  Can you fill out these forms?  She handed a clipboard and a pen.

Nodding, Vin went to sit beside Ezra while he worked his way slowly through the forms.  A few minutes later, another nurse came out with a wheelchair and loaded Ezra into it.

Vin warned.  He may have some busted ribs.

The nurse looked at him in surprise, her eyes narrowing when she took in the bruises on both their faces.

Vin reddened slightly under the scrutiny.  We, uh, kind'a got in a fight a couple days ago.  Some other guys got mad when we beat em in basketball.

I see, she said with a frown.  You boys should know better than that.  Fighting doesn't solve anything.

Yes, ma'am, Vin said sheepishly.

Ezra looked around, bewildered by what was happening.

It's okay, Ez, Vin reassured him.  They're gonna help you breathe better.

Ezra nodded in understanding as the nurse wheeled him away.

Vin finally finished filling out the paperwork, then settled in to wait.  It was almost two in the morning before the doctor came out to see him.

Mr. Standish? the doctor inquired.

Vin replied.  Ezra's my half-brother.

The doctor nodded, then said seriously, Your brother's very sick.  In addition to two cracked ribs, he has a nasty case of pneumonia.  He needs antibiotics, but we cannot give him anything without parental consent.

Vin sighed.  This is what he had feared would happen.  Usually, if either of them needed medical attention, they would prevail upon one of their adult friends for assistance.  Ms. Peterson and Mr. Watson were always willing to help them by pretending to be a relative of some sort.  They were never questioned at the free clinic, but here, at the hospital, he had a feeling it would be more complicated.  For one thing, neither of them had medical insurance, something their guardians' could do nothing about.  

He and Ezra had agreed early on not to involve Rosie in their problems, since she had already done enough for them.  Since he had already invented an aunt', that left Ms. Peterson as the only logical choice.  Later in the morning, Vin knew he could contact the librarian to portray their aunt, but for now, there was nothing he could do.   

My aunt will be back in the morning, Vin said. 

We'll have to wait until she arrives, the doctor said with a sigh.

Nodding resignedly, Vin asked, Can I see him?

Of course, the doctor said kindly.  This way.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra looked awful.  The bruises on his face looked much worse against his pale skin, the fluorescent lighting making the contrast even more obvious.  He looked up when Vin entered the room.

Vin said, offering his friend a weak smile.  How ya doin'?

Ezra looked at him oddly, his eyes glazed with fever.  he croaked hoarsely.

I'm here, Vin said.  Just get some rest, okay.

With a small nod, Ezra closed his eyes and instantly fell sleep.

Vin stayed with him until the nurse made him leave fifteen minutes later.  He returned to the waiting room and tried to stay awake until he could visit with Ezra again, but despite his best efforts, he soon drifted off.  Two hours later, he awakened to a commotion in the hallway.  His alarm grew when he saw several medical personnel running into the room where Ezra was being kept.  Jumping to his feet, Vin raced down the hall, stopping in the doorway when he saw the doctors and nurses clustered around his friend's bed.

A nurse approached and tried to urge him away from the room, but Vin planted his feet firmly and refused to budge.  The nurse returned moments later with a large orderly, and the two of them hauled Vin away from the room despite his best efforts.

Vin pleaded.  He's my brother, please!

I'm sorry, son, the nurse said soothingly.  But you have to let the doctors work.

Vin shrugged off their hands and paced the waiting room agitatedly until the doctors came out a few minutes later.  Hurrying toward them, he asked anxiously, What happened?  Is he okay?

Your brother is stable, for now, the doctor began.  His airway was blocked for a minute, but we took care of that.  He does, however, need treatment as soon as possible so he can keep breathing.  Is there anyone else, another relative perhaps, who can take responsibility for him?

Vin shook his head sadly.  Not until later, when my aunt comes home.  At four in the morning, even Rosie was not available.

I'm sorry, then, the doctor said.  We'll just have to wait.

But he's sick! Vin argued.  You have to do something!

I'm sorry, but my hands are tied without an adult to give consent, the doctor said regretfully.  If he gets much worse, we'll have to call in the child welfare people.

Vin's protest was cut off by a large hand gripping his shoulder.

I'll take responsibility.

Vin stiffened at the sound of the familiar voice.

And you are? the doctor inquired.

Agent Buck Wilmington, the man replied, showing his badge.  I believe members of law enforcement have the authority to take responsibility for minors?

That's right, the doctor said, smiling faintly in relief.  Will you authorize the necessary treatment for this boy's brother?

Damn right, Buck replied.

the doctor answered.  Miss Woods here will get the proper paperwork.  He turned to leave.  I have a patient to attend to.

Vin stood silently, trying to absorb what had just happened.

You gonna stand there all night? Buck asked, squeezing the bony shoulder under his hand.

Vin pulled out of his grasp and moved to one side of the waiting room, dropping stiffly into one of the uncomfortable chairs.

Buck approached, squatting in front of Vin.  What's going on, kid?

Slowly, Vin raised his gaze, noticing for the fist time that JD was with him.  What're you doin' here? he finally asked.

Buck chuckled.  Well, the kid here, he gestured toward JD, dropped a glass when he went to get some water.  Stepped on some glass and cut his foot up pretty good.

JD rolled his eyes.  It just needs a few stitches, that's all.  He hobbled closer, taking the seat next to Vin's.  Looks like you've seen a little bit of action since I last saw you.

Vin shrugged, then winced at the pull on his ribs.  Ran into some of MacDermott's friends.  They weren't too happy with us.

  Buck said.  You mean you and your brother?

Did he get hurt in the fight? JD asked.  Is that why you're here?

Sort of, Vin said.

Doc says he's got pneumonia, Vin answered reluctantly.   He had a bad cold before.

The nurse interrupted then, handing some paperwork to Buck.  He scanned it quickly, turning to Vin with raised eyebrows.  It says here you're waiting for your aunt?

Vin looked away, knowing that Buck was aware of the truth.  

I better give Chris a call, Buck said.  He _is_ you legal guardian at the moment.

Vin grimaced, leaning back in his chair.  He thought about running, but there was no way he was going to leave Ezra here alone.

Buck stood and returned to the nurse's station to complete the paperwork and call Chris.

Everything will be okay, JD assured Vin.  

Vin snorted in disbelief.  Larabee would hardly be in a mood to be lenient with him now.  Juvenile hall was the only thing he could see in his future, and that was hardly okay.'

Chris will take care of things, JD said, trying hard to convince him.  He's real good at that.

The young agent's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement.  Why what?

Why would Larabee bother?  It was a question that had been bothering him from the start.  Why would an ATF agent give a damn about a street rat like him?  He was interested in what happened to Digger, but that wasn't enough to explain why he would take a strange kid home with him.

Chris cares, JD said simply with a shrug of his shoulders.

I wouldn't, Vin said softly.

JD stared at him intently.  I don't believe that for a minute.  Seems to me, you care an awful lot, otherwise you wouldn't be here worrying about your brother.

Vin shrugged, then stood and resumed pacing.  What's taking them so long?

Always seems to take forever when someone you care about is in here, JD said sympathetically.  I remember one time when Chris nearly got kicked out of here after Nathan and Buck got shot during a bust.  He chuckled.  He looked like he was ready to rip someone's head off.

Vin smiled weakly, having no trouble picturing Larabee acting like that.

Chris is on his way, Buck said when he returned to his seat.

I ain't leaving. Vin glared at him defiantly.

Nobody's making you go anywhere, Buck said placatingly.  Just relax, okay?

Vin gave him a doubtful look, then nodded.

  Buck turned to JD.  They'll be ready for you in a couple of minutes.

Oh joy, JD said with a groan.

Walking over to the windows, Vin watched the horizon lighten and begin to turn pink with the approach of dawn.  Whatever happened, it was the beginning of the end for him and Ezra.  It saddened him that they would probably lose everything they had worked toward, but he wouldn't trade his brother's life for anything.  They would just have to make some plans and do their best to stick together.  Maybe Larabee would even arrange for them to see each other sometimes.  He heaved a depressed sigh and rested his forehead on the cool glass, wrapping his arm around his aching ribs.

* * * * * * * * * *

To say that Buck had been surprised to see Vin Tanner in the emergency room would be an understatement.  Concerned for his roommate, he had not noticed the boy until he saw him struggling with the big orderly.  Finding the boy had raised some new questions, though, and he knew Chris was going to have a conniption.  Seeing the defeated slump of the thin shoulders, he walked over to the windows to stand next to the boy.

Didn't say anything in your records about a brother, he said conversationally.

Vin turned to glare at him and Buck smiled at the spark of defiance he saw in the blue eyes.  Vin Tanner had not given up yet.

He your real brother?

Real enough to me, Vin answered brusquely.

Fair enough, Buck said.  You hurtin'? He gestured to Vin's arm, which was wrapped tightly around his middle.

Vin replied quickly.

Buck gave him a knowing smile.  Then you wouldn't mind picking that up for me.  He dropped his pen on the floor.

Glaring at him, Vin bent over slowly, retrieving the plastic pen and handing it to him.  

Buck took note of the shallow breathing and the beads of perspiration that dotted the boy's brow.  Maybe you ought to sit down... fore you fall down.

'm okay. Vin ducked out of his grasp, immediately gasping in pain as his ribs protested the movement.

That's what I thought, Buck said with a sigh.  Come on.  Let's have the docs take a look at ya.

Told ya, I'm fine.

You wanna try that one on Chris, be my guest, Buck said with a snort.  He ain't quite as easygoin' as I am.

Vin frowned, giving Buck a disbelieving look.

Look, I'll make a deal with you, Buck said seriously.  You let the doctors check you out and I'll see about gettin' you in to see your brother.  He grinned at the boy.  The doctors here tend to be very accommodating when it comes to our little group.

  JD added, limping over to join them.  Us being such frequent customers, and all.

Our boss, Assistant Director Travis, insists we're his most accident-prone team, Buck added with a laugh.  He's probably right.

Vin eyed the hallway leading to Ezra's room for a long minute, then gave a reluctant nod.  

Buck didn't need any additional explanation and immediately returned to the nurse's station to arrange for a doctor to see to Vin.  The teenager had just left with the doctor when Chris arrived.

What's going on, Buck? Chris demanded tersely.  Where is he?

Take it easy, pard, Buck said, gesturing toward the waiting room.  Take a load off and I'll fill you in.

Running a hand through his hair, Chris reluctantly took a seat next to his friend.  So, tell me.

I brought JD in to get some stitches, Buck began.  At his questioning look, he explained, Kid broke a glass and stepped on it.  I brought him in for some stitches and spotted the Tanner kid arguing with a doctor.

What's he doing here?

He brought his brother in with pneumonia, Buck answered.  Vin was arguing with the doctors because they wouldn't treat him without a parent or guardian's consent.  He shrugged.  It sounded like the other kid was in a bad way, so I took responsibility for both of 

So where is Vin now?

I made a deal with him to have the doctors check him out, Buck explained.  Kid took a respectable beating sometime in the last couple of days and it looked like he was in pain.

Any idea what happened?

He told JD that he and the other kid had a run in with MacDermott's bunch, Buck explained.  I get the feeling the other kid, this Ezra Standish, is the friend he was protecting when he bashed MacDermott.  Course, he's claiming him as his brother.

He doesn't have a brother, Chris replied automatically.

I know, Buck said with a sigh.  I asked him about it and he told me Standish was a real enough brother to him.

Chris leaned back in his chair.  

Buck said.  I figured we can check out this Standish kid back at the office later.

Chris nodded, curious about this new addition to the scenario.

You're gonna have a problem if you try to separate Tanner from Standish, Buck warned.  Vin already told me in no uncertain terms that he wasn't leavin'.

He calls him brother' and risks bringing him to the ER – I'd say they're very close friends, Chris said, thinking aloud.  I'd probably be hesitant to leave anyone I cared about if they were sick in the hospital, too.

What do you want to do?

Is JD up to going to work today?

Yeah, he'll be fine, Buck assured him.

Good.  I want you two to get me whatever you can find about Standish, ASAP, Chris directed.  Get it to me here, then I'll figure out what I'm going to do.

You got it, pard, Buck said.  Anything else you need?

Chris grinned.  Yeah.  Get me some coffee.  It's too damned early.

**TBC**

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

**Mean Streets**

**Part 8**

* * *

* * * * * * * * * * 

The light bandages on his ribs – and the painkillers that came with them – felt better than his self-applied wrappings, but Vin found himself much more unsettled.  Chris Larabee was probably going to be out there when he left the examination room, and Vin wasn't sure he was ready to see the man.  The urge to run was strong, but he wasn't going to leave without Ezra.  Ez had always stood by him – hell, he had risked a lot by coming to Larabee's house to get him after the whole MacDermott incident – and he wasn't about to turn his back on his best friend because he was afraid.

Squaring his shoulders, Vin left the examination room as soon as the doctor was finished, attempting to appear confident as he strolled into the waiting room.  As he expected, Larabee was waiting there, looking up as soon as he entered the room.

Larabee inclined his head slightly in greeting.  How are you doing?

I'm fine, sir, Vin said quietly, forcing himself to meet the man's penetrating gaze. 

The doctor says you have a couple of cracked ribs and one broken one. 

Vin shrugged gently.  Had busted ribs before.  They heal up pretty quick.

Larabee grimaced at his statement, leaving Vin wondering what he had said wrong.

You feel like seeing Ezra?

Vin nodded eagerly.  Ezra had not looked too good the last time he saw him, and he hoped that he was doing better now.  Inside the room, Vin swallowed hard at the sight of his friend lying so still.  There were two intravenous lines attached to Ezra and an oxygen mask on his face, making him look helpless.

Vin called to his friend.  

Ezra opened one eye, awkwardly turning his head to look at the source of the voice that disturbed him.  He blinked sleepily at Vin.  he said in a voice so soft it was barely audible.

I'm here, Ez, Vin said.  I ain't leavin'.

Ezra nodded, his eyes sliding shut as sleep claimed him again.

Vin sat in the chair near the head of the bed, resting his sore – sprained, according to the doctor – wrist on the bed next to Ezra.  Larabee had watched quietly from the door and now moved inside to take the chair by the window.

You don't have to stay, Vin said.  I can take care of him.

I bet you can, Larabee replied.  But I'm legally responsible for you, so I think I'll stick around for a while.

I ain't leavin' Ez, Vin stated quietly.  Brothers stick together.

A grin quirked on Larabee's lips.  Yeah, they do.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was nearing nine-thirty in the morning and Vin was starting to get hungry.  He didn't want to leave Ezra, but didn't think his sleeping friend would mind if he left for a few minutes to get some breakfast.  Getting stiffly to his feet, Vin said, Gonna get somethin' to eat, Ez.  I'll be back in a little while.

Vin headed for the door, aware of Larabee following a step behind him.  They made their way to the cafeteria, where Vin filled his plate with pancakes and sausage, getting himself a large cup of coffee to go along with it.  Larabee said nothing, getting his own breakfast together.  

At the register, Larabee pulled out his wallet.  I'll get it.

I have money, Vin said proudly. 

Larabee shrugged.  I'm feeling generous.

Rolling his eyes, Vin decided not to argue.  They took their trays to one of the few empty tables in the place and sat down, eating in silence.

I have to use the bathroom, Vin stated when he was finished eating.

Go ahead, Larabee said.  I'm still working on my coffee.

Vin headed for the men's room.  When he was finished, he noticed some pay phones in a small alcove nearby.  He debated with himself for a minute, then nodded decisively, reaching for the telephone.  He had just hung up when he felt a hand on his shoulder.  Turning, he found Larabee standing behind him.

Larabee eyed him curiously.  Anyone I know?

Vin said, refusing to elaborate.

Larabee said, not pressing him further.  You ready to get back to your friend?

Vin nodded and the two of them headed back to Ezra's room.

* * * * * * * * * *

Chris sat quietly, studying the two boys in the room.  What he could see of Ezra Standish was a slim boy with light brown hair, who appeared to be around the same age and size as Vin Tanner.  The boy had opened dull green eyes two or three times during their vigil, but spent most of his time asleep.  Tanner was another matter.  Chris had watched him closely, cataloguing the range of emotions that crossed the boy's face.  The predominant expression was the worried frown that took up residence on his face every time he looked at his stricken brother.'  

Nodding to himself, Chris realized that Josiah had been correct about Tanner.   The kid did have a strong sense of honor, if his concern for his friend was any indication.  He looked to the boy in the bed, wondering what kind of person he was to warrant such loyalty.

It was eleven o'clock when Buck poked his head into the room.  Chris nodded and quickly joined him in the hall.  

Got the file on Standish, Buck said.  Interesting reading.

Oh yeah? Chris took the offered folder.

Kid's been picked up a few times for gambling, Buck said with a chuckle.  Seems he's quite the poker player.

Any other problems I should know about?

Buck shrugged.  Kid's pretty clean, in terms of the kind of stuff we usually see.  He's a lot like Tanner that way.  No major criminal activities, drugs, or violence, and no record at all for the last couple of years.

I'll take a look at this, Chris said, indicating the folder.  You and the rest of the boys can get to work finishing those reports.  Travis is already on my ass about getting them filed.

Yes, sir, Buck said, snapping a salute.

Get your ass out of here, Buck, Chris said with a tolerant grin.

You need anything? Buck asked seriously.

Nah, I'll be fine here, Chris said.  You know where to find me.

See ya later.  Buck waved as he strode down the hall.

Opening the file, Chris returned to the room, curious to decipher the mystery of Ezra Standish.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was almost two o'clock when Larabee climbed to his feet and announced he was going for lunch.  Vin didn't want to leave, but he did want to keep in the man's good graces, so he agreed to a short break.  After a quick and silent lunch in the cafeteria, they started back toward Ezra's room.  

Passing by the bank of pay phones, Larabee asked with a smile, Any more phone calls to make? 

Vin started to shake his head, then paused, wrinkling his forehead thoughtfully.  Yeah.  I got one more call to make.

Larabee raised his eyebrows curiously.  O-kay.  I'll meet you back in the room.

Vin watched him leave, wondering why the man wasn't pushing him more about the phone calls.  Shrugging, he decided to figure it out later.  Right now, he needed to call Rosie to explain why he and Ezra had not shown up that morning.  If he knew the feisty woman, she was worried sick about them.  He wasn't sure why she cared so much, but he and Ezra owed her too much to dismiss her feelings lightly.  

As expected, Rosie was very concerned about them, but Vin reassured her that everything was fine and that they would be back underfoot in no time.  As he hung up the phone, he hoped he wasn't lying to her.  

The doctor was with Ezra when he returned and Vin waited impatiently until he was finished his examination.

How's he doing? Larabee asked the doctor when he stepped out of the room.

the doctor replied.  His fever is down, but he still has a lot of congestion in his chest.  He's lucky to have been brought in right away.

Larabee squeezed his shoulder as Vin lowered his head, pleased by the acknowledgement of his efforts.  He was glad he had gotten Ezra the help he needed in time.  

I expect we'll need to keep him here for a couple of days, until his breathing is better.

So he's gonna be okay? Vin asked tentatively.

As long as he gets plenty of rest and takes his medication, the doctor answered with a smile.

Vin sighed in relief.  

You're quite welcome, the doctor replied.

Let's go. Larabee urged him gently back into the room.

Vin resumed his vigil, pulling one of the textbooks Ms. Peterson had given them from his backpack.  This one was U.S. History, a subject both he and Ezra found interesting.  They had studied some before, but this was the first real textbook they had acquired on the subject.  Ezra had already breezed through three chapters, but Vin was still working on the first, since his reading speed was much slower.  He picked up where he had left off, looking up when he felt the blond agent's eyes on him.

You're reading history? Larabee said, stating the obvious.

Vin replied with a shrug.  

I ain't stupid, Vin said, unsure if he should take offense.  'Sides, I have to learn this stuff, so I can go to college with Ez.

Larabee tilted his head curiously, looking surprised at the statement.  You want to go to college?

Vin rolled his eyes, wondering why people always reacted that way.  

After a minute, Larabee smiled.  

Vin looked at him suspiciously, then shook his head and went back to his book.  Larabee was a hard one to figure out.  He never seemed to act the way he was expecting.  Vin wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, so he decided to shelve his questions for later, when he could discuss them with Ezra.  

* * * * * * * * * *

I'm going for coffee, Larabee stated, later that afternoon.  You want a soda or something?

Yes, please, Vin said hesitantly.

Larabee smiled as he headed for the door.  I'll be back in a few.

Vin nodded and returned to his book.  Moments later the door opened again, only instead of Larabee, it was Ms. Peterson who stepped through the door.

Vin? Ezra? she said, putting her hand to her mouth when she caught sight of Ezra in the bed.  Oh, the poor dear.  She hurried to the bed and tentatively put her hand on his forehead before turning to Vin.  How is he?

Doc says he'll be okay. Vin was still working to get over his shock at seeing the librarian here at the hospital.  Ya didn't need to come all the way over here, ma'am.

She shushed him with a wave of her hand.  Besides I had to bring Ezra all of these.  She reached into the large canvas bag she was carrying and held up a large manila envelope.

What's that?

Just as she was about to answer, Larabee returned with their drinks.  He stopped just inside the doorway, taken aback at finding someone else in the room.  

Ms. Peterson turned toward him, eyeing him up and down.  

* * * * * * * * * *

How are the boys? Josiah asked when Buck strolled into the office.  The gregarious agent had told them of his late-night encounter with the runaways earlier that morning, and Josiah was concerned about their health.

They're okay, Buck said.  Standish sounds a little better than he did last night.  Hell, you could hear im wheezing all the way across the room.

Pneumonia can be rough, Nathan remarked.  'Specially if it ain't treated soon enough.

The doctor says he's gonna be all right, Buck assured him.  I'll tell ya, those two are somethin' else.  He handed Ezra's file to Josiah.  Take a look at this.  Kid's a real cardsharp.

Josiah perused the file, chuckling aloud at some of the comments added by law enforcement personnel.  Seems he has a smart mouth on him, as well.

Sounds like a real delinquent, Nathan said with a snort.

He's an interesting case, Josiah added.  A lot like Tanner, I'd say.

Tanner claims he's his brother, Buck said.  Seems they're really good friends.

Josiah said in a faraway voice.

Uh-oh, he's going into Mr. Spock mode again, JD said, laughing.  Mr. Spock mode' was what JD had dubbed Josiah's tendency to tune out the world while he contemplated something he found particularly fascinating.'

I think I'd like to meet young Mr. Tanner's Josiah said after a few minutes thought. 

Nathan rolled his eyes.  Don't you ever get tired of studying people?

Josiah gave him a broad grin.  

* * * * * * * * * *

Chris stopped just inside the room, surprised at the presence of another person – who was apparently not medical staff – in the room.  The woman in question scrutinized him thoroughly before smiling and greeting him cordially.

Chris answered the greeting, looking toward Vin expectantly.   

Uh, Ms. Peterson, Vin began.  This is Agent Larabee.

Ah, yes, Ms. Peterson said, turning toward him.  From the ATF, I assume?

That would be correct, Chris said with a grin, setting the drinks on the table so he could offer his hand.

I'm Paula Peterson. She offered a hand in greeting.  I work in the library.  Vin and Ezra are two of our favorite patrons. 

Nice to meet you, Chris said, taking the offered hand.  She was a tall, thin woman, with gray-streaked brown hair; he placed her age at somewhere between thirty-five and fifty.  Gold wire-rimmed glasses framed intelligent brown eyes and Chris had a feeling that she was a force to be reckoned with.

Vin let me know what happened, so I came by to make sure he and Ezra were doing all right, Ms. Peterson continued.  And to bring by a few well wishes.  She smiled at Vin, then pulled out a number of colorful papers from the envelope.  The children insisted on making some get well cards when they heard Ezra was sick. 

Vin chuckled, picking up some of the folded papers.  There were a large variety of drawings, most done in crayon and depicting rainbows, smiley faces, and odd-colored creatures that were probably supposed to be their favorite pets.  Ez'll love 

Shelley and Marie, along with a few of the mothers, sent these along.  She withdrew two foil-covered plastic plates from her bag and set them on the table.  

Vin reached for one, lifting the foil to reveal a pile of homemade cookies.  I don't think Ez'll be up to eating these for a while, but I sure appreciate them.

_Cookies and get well cards?_  Chris watched the scene unfold with puzzled fascination. Things were certainly taking an interesting turn.

Ms. Peterson smiled at Chris.  Ezra often reads to the children during story hour at the library.

Larabee nodded in understanding, leaning casually against the wall.  _That explained a lot._

Vin here is quite a help, too, the librarian explained.  He helps me lug books around while Ezra handles story hour.  She smiled fondly at the two boys.  Things just aren't the same without them.

Chris chuckled inwardly, reading the unspoken message in her words.  The two boys were apparently important to her and she wouldn't tolerate anyone hurting them.  Chris gave her a nod, resolving to speak with her some more later.  She might just have some answers to the questions he had about these two unusual boys.

The friendly librarian stayed for twenty minutes, chatting amiably with Vin and Chris, and even saying a brief hello to Ezra when he awoke for a few minutes.  Between the medication and the fever, though, Chris did not think the boy was aware of much.  

Ms. Peterson stood to leave. You take good care of him, Vin.  I'll be expecting regular updates.

Yes, ma'am, Vin said, giving her a smile.

Mr. Larabee? She inclined her head toward the door.

I'll walk you out, Chris said, hiding a smile at the suspicious look Vin sent him. 

In the hall, Ms. Peterson gave him a knowing look.  So, Mr. Larabee of the ATF.  I assume you are the one who took Vin away for a couple of days?

I am, Chris answered.  I believe he may be a witness in an ongoing investigation.  He paused for a moment.  In fact, I'm beginning to think that they both are.

I see, she said thoughtfully.  How did you happen to find him here?  I know that Ezra somehow engineered Vin's escape from your custody... She left the statement hanging, looking at him for an explanation.

He did, huh?  Chris chuckled.  I'm starting to think that there's a lot more to these boys than meets the eye.

You'd be right, there, Ms. Peterson said with a grin.

One of my men was here this morning and happened to see Vin, Chris explained.  It was pure chance, but I'm glad he found them.  Someone needed to take responsibility for Ezra's medical care.

Ms. Peterson sighed.  Yes, I was afraid that was the case.  I usually try to help them out in these kinds of situations.  

This happen often?

No, thank goodness, she replied with a shake of her head.  They're good boys, both of them.  I've only had to provide assistance once before. She laughed lightly.  I make a pretty good Aunt Paula', you know.

I bet, Chris said with a chuckle.

Still, even after knowing them for two years, I can't get them to call me by my given name.  It's always _ma'am_ or _Ms. Peterson_.  She shrugged.  I've never met more polite children in my life.

Yeah, I know what you mean.  Chris scratched his chin.  What can you tell me about them?

It was a few minutes before Ms. Peterson spoke.  Are you going to look out for them?

Chris replied immediately. 

she said,  I'll tell you what I know.  She proceeded to tell him about the two boys: how they spent their days at the library; how they followed their structured study schedule religiously; how they worked regular jobs to save money for college.

A soft whistle of appreciation escaped Chris's lips.  

she said with a nod.  That's why I do whatever I can to help them.  Most kids in their situation have enough trouble just surviving, but those two have overcome the worst influences imaginable and still have the determination to make something of themselves.

It's hard to do, Chris agreed.  I'll admit I was surprised when Vin pulled out a history book and told me he was going to college.

They actually attended school for a while, the librarian said, a hint of wonder in her voice.  Ezra, bless his clever heart, somehow managed to forge them some transcripts.  They were freshmen in high school last year for nearly four months under assumed names.  She shook her head.  Things fell apart when the school authorities wanted to get in touch with their parents about moving them up a grade or two, and getting Vin into some extra classes for his dyslexia.

Since there were no parents, they had to leave to avoid having Social Services called in, Chris guessed.

Ms. Peterson nodded sadly.  They've had experience with the system in the past, and from what I gather, it was highly unpleasant. The expression on her face suggested she would enjoy getting her hands on those who had hurt the two boys.  They want to stay together, which is unlikely given the way the foster care system works.

Is that why you never turned them in?

That, and the fact that they're managing very well on their own – probably better than they would within the system, she said candidly.  They are intelligent, good-hearted boys who have done well for themselves, despite their situation.  Giving him an amused look, she said, You know what they say: If it ain't broke, don't fix it.' 

Chris said.

I'm usually rather law-abiding, Ms. Peterson said somewhat sheepishly.  But those boys are just too special to let the system ruin them.  Does that make sense?

Chris replied.  It does.

I'm glad you understand, she said.  I'd hate to think of them being in the care of someone who didn't recognize how exceptional they are.

I'll do whatever I can for them, Chris promised.

Thank you. The librarian rummaged in her purse and came up with a card, which she handed to Chris.  If there's anything they need, or anything I can do to help, please call me.  

I'll do that, Chris said, pocketing the card.

They shook hands and Chris watched the woman walk away, pondering what she had told him.  He was starting to gain an understanding of the two runaways, which he hoped would help him get the information he needed about Digger's murder.  Maybe he could even find a way to help them in the process.  Either way, he needed to talk to both of them, once Standish was well enough.

Chris pushed through the door to the hospital room and stopped in his tracks.  Tanner was gone.  The cards had been placed on the side table, but both plates of cookies were gone, along with the teenager.

Chris muttered, spinning around and rushing back into the hallway.  Even as he hurried toward the stairs, he knew it was a futile effort.  Tanner was too smart to be easily caught.  

Outside the hospital lobby, Chris saw no sign of the teenager, but he did see his men coming up the front walkway.

Buck greeted him.  Something goin' on?

Tanner took off on me, Chris admitted.

JD commented, only to get the back of his head slapped by Buck.  

He left while I was talking with a friend of his. Chris walked with them toward the entrance.  I'll fill you in upstairs.

* * * * * * * * * *

I hate seeing kids in this place. Buck looked sympathetically at the teenager in the hospital bed.  

Well, he needs proper treatment, Nathan said, scrutinizing the machines attached to the boy.

I wonder why Vin took off? JD mused.

He doesn't trust us, Josiah said sagely.  He probably thought it would be safer to go back to his own turf.

Buck inquired.  He knows we aren't going to hurt him, doesn't he?

His self-proclaimed brother is sick, and we barged in and took over when you found him here. Josiah shrugged.  He ran away from us before and isn't certain how we'll react to that.  The boy's worried and afraid for his friend as well as for himself.  He probably doesn't know what to do or who to trust.  You have to remember, he's only fourteen years old, despite how much he's seen in his life.

What do we do now? Buck asked.

We wait, Chris said simply.  Tanner will be back.  He won't leave his brother here alone for long.

I agree, Josiah said.  We simply have to play this on his terms for now.

And then what? JD interjected.

What do you mean? Chris looked at him in confusion.

What are you going to do with them afterward? JD continued.  I know you want information about who killed your informant, but what happens to them after you get what you want?

Buck warned.  

It's okay, Buck, Chris said.  He's got a valid point.  He turned to his youngest agent.  I don't know yet, JD.  All I can say is that I'm going to help them, if I can.  He switched his gaze to the unconscious form in the bed.  I'd say they've earned it.

You gonna stay here? Buck asked, already knowing the answer.

'Til they kick me out, anyway, Chris said.  I could get official and insist on having someone here to watch the kid, but I don't think that's necessary.

Yeah, he's not likely to go anywhere for at least a couple of days. Nathan shook his head.  Pneumonia is nothing to mess with.

Tanner will be back tomorrow, Chris said confidently.  And I'll be here to meet him.

* * * * * * * * * *

The room was dimly lit and smelled like the industrial strength cleaning products he used at some of his jobs.  Without moving his head,  Ezra scanned his surroundings.  From the darkness he could see through the window blinds, he determined it was night time, which might explain why he was alone in this hospital room.  Still, he felt an unaccountable stab of fear that Vin was not anywhere nearby.  He always worried when they were apart, afraid that some mishap would befall his best friend while he was not there to help.  Vin always smiled and told him not to worry, but as he explained to the other boy, he didn't have so many friends that he could afford to lose one.

Ezra shifted uncomfortably in the bed, wincing when one of the IV's pulled slightly.  He always hated hospitals.  They were places that restricted his freedom, one thing he had already endured far too often in his short life, so he avoided them as much as possible.  He had vague recollections of Vin's worried face and a frantic taxi ride to the hospital, but everything afterward was a blur.  He thought there might have been others there with him, along with Vin, but fevers tended to bring on strange dreams, so he couldn't be sure that he had not simply imagined it.

His nose twitched at the uncomfortable sensation of the oxygen mask, and Ezra resisted the urge to take a deep breath, knowing the end result of such an action would be a painful fit of coughing.  The room around him was quiet, the only other bed currently unoccupied, and Ezra found himself wishing for morning to arrive.  He wasn't a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, but he knew morning would bring Vin's return and he was particularly anxious to see his friend.  The past week had left him feeling a bit jumpy and spending some time with Vin was what he needed to ease his worries.  Focusing on positive thoughts, Ezra gradually slipped back into a deep sleep.

**TBC**

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**Mean Streets**

**Part 9**

* * *

* * * * * * * * * * 

When he next awoke, the room was positively crowded.  Three men stood by the window with their backs to him, speaking in hushed, urgent tones.  Ezra looked around, but saw no sign that Vin was present.  Feigning sleep, he listened carefully, hoping to discern who these men were and what they were doing in his room.  The voices were soft, but he could make out a few words.  His attention was riveted when he heard one of them say   

His heart began to race as Ezra considered what might be happening to his best friend.  The fact that these men were here and talking about him did not bode well for either of them.  As his agitation increased, so did his respiration, which induced a sudden and unexpected coughing fit.  His fists clenched in the sheets as he fought to stifle the agonizing spasms.

You okay, kid? a concerned voice asked.

When he finally caught his breath and opened his eyes, he found a familiar face hovering over him.  I'm quite... fine, Mr. Wilmington.  His chest felt heavy and he forced himself to take short, shallow breaths to keep his breathing even.

Good, I was... hey, wait a minute! Wilmington gave him a puzzled look.  How do you know who I am?

Vin described... you to me, Ezra replied hoarsely, silently berating himself for the slip and hoping the man believed him.  He did not want to reveal that he had actually seen the man before... not yet, anyway.  

Buck said, not looking entirely convinced.

How're you feeling? a younger man, standing beside Wilmington, inquired.

I'm fine... Mr. Dunne, isn't it? Ezra replied, speaking carefully to avoid another coughing fit.

The man grinned, making him look even younger.  That's me.

If I may ask, what... are you doing here?

Well, we happened to run into Vin yesterday, and he told us how sick you were, Buck explained.  Turned out he needed someone to give the docs permission to take care of you, so, here we are.

I see, Ezra replied quietly, feeling his world crashing down around him.  It appeared that he and Vin were once again back on the road to Social Services and whatever hell hole they decided was a fit place for them to live.  He had no illusions that he and Vin would end up together – that only happened in fairy tales and he had stopped believing in Santa Claus a long time ago.  He sighed inwardly, figuring that was why Vin wasn't here.  If one of them remained free, there was always hope that they could get together again and see their plans through.

The doctor says you'll be able to leave in a couple of days, said the third man in the room, a bearded, older man with kind blue eyes.

Ezra grimaced, thinking that the hospital might be better than wherever he was destined once he was back in the clutches of Social Services.

Something wrong? Wilmington asked.

Ezra shook his head, hoping to clear the depressing thoughts away.  To divert attention from himself, he asked,  Where is Vin?  The look on Wilmington's face in response to his question struck fear into Ezra's heart.  

Mr. Wilmington?

We don't know where he is, Wilmington replied after a brief pause.  Chris thought he would be back this morning, but he hasn't been here.

Ezra looked at the clock, noting that it was nearly one in the afternoon.  His gut churned at the thought that Vin had run into any trouble.  He would understand if Vin was staying away to avoid being taken into custody again, but what if Jones and the rest of  MacDermott's band of thugs caught up with him again?

Do you know where Vin might have gone? Dunne asked.  Maybe a place where you guys like to hang out?

Ezra pressed his lips together tightly.  There was no way he was going to give up the location of the home they had worked so hard to maintain for more than two years.  No, I'm afraid I... have no idea where he... might have chosen... to hang out', as you put it.

The three men stared at him, disbelief plain on their faces, but Ezra did not care.  He was not going to give up Vin for anyone.

Wilmington shared a look with the bearded man, who gave him a short nod.  Sighing heavily, Wilmington turned back toward him.  Ezra, we think Vin might be in trouble.  Chris got a call late this morning about a brawl and subsequent fire that occurred late this morning at that old factory where we first met Vin.

Ezra forcibly kept himself from reacting, tilting his head sideways inquisitively instead.  And what... does this have... to do with Vin?

There were casualties, Wilmington said simply.  Chris is at the morgue checking them out now.

A cold stab of fear shot through him and it was all he could do to keep from bolting from the bed and running to check on Vin.  Ezra merely nodded in reply, pasting a blasé expression on his face, much to his visitors' consternation.

Did you hear what I said? Wilmington prodded.

Yes, I did... Mr. Wilmington, Ezra replied breathlessly.  My hearing... is not impaired.

Doesn't it worry you, son? the bearded man asked.

First, I am not... your son, Mr....? Ezra stated softly.  

Sanchez, Josiah Sanchez.

Second, Vin can... take care of himself.  I am... certain you will not... find him in... any morgue. Ezra would not believe that Vin was dead; it was simply inconceivable.  

I see, Sanchez replied thoughtfully.  Perhaps, then, you could tell us where he is, so we don't have to worry about him.  That wouldn't hurt anything, would it?

Ezra rolled his eyes.  You will have... to do better than that... Mr. Sanchez.  I am not a fool.  His hoarse retort was interrupted with another fit of coughing that prevented him from expressing further indignation.

Take it easy, kid, Dunne said, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

If he hadn't been so helpless from coughing, Ezra would have pulled away from the uninvited touch.  He didn't like anyone getting too close to him, since it usually proved to be a harbinger of pain.  When the coughs finally subsided, Ezra was feeling both physically and emotionally spent.  His eyes started to drift shut, despite his best efforts to stay awake. 

* * * * * * * * * *

Buck came to immediate attention when Chris entered the hospital room.  JD and Josiah had returned to work, having only stopped by during their lunch hour to keep Buck company while he waited to see if Vin would show up.  

Chris sighed.  I don't know.  They found three bodies inside... He shook his head.  They're nothing but charcoal now.  Can't tell much other than they're all male.

So one of em could be Tanner? Buck said grimly, knowing how difficult it had been for his friend to see the burned bodies after what had happened to his own family.

Two were the right size, Chris said softly.  And there was a charred backpack near them that looks just like the one Vin had with him yesterday.  It was empty, but...  He shrugged helplessly.

There's a lot of reasons that might explain why he ain't here, Buck offered hopefully.

Yeah, but given that he and Standish were involved in a fight just a couple nights ago, and hell, we found Tanner in that goddamn factory in the first place... Chris sat heavily in one of the chairs.  He was too worried about Standish to just not show up today.  There's just too damn many coincidences for me to believe there's any other reason, much as I wish that were the case.

Buck ran a hand through his thick hair.  Damn.  How are we gonna break the news to him? He nodded his head toward Ezra.

I don't know, Buck, Chris said sadly.

Well you better think of somethin' fast, cause I think he's waking up, Buck warned, pointing to the boy on the bed who had starting moving his head.

Chris cursed, getting to his feet and moving closer to the bed.  How the hell was he supposed to tell this boy that his friend – his brother – was probably dead?  

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra awoke again to find visitors in his room.  Wilmington was still present, but had been joined by Chris Larabee.  He looked around, but still saw no sign of Vin.

Yes, Mr. Larabee? Ezra said in his rough voice, meeting the man's smoky blue eyes.

Larabee paused at being addressed by name, then continued.  I guess Vin told you about me?

Ezra nodded in reply.

Are you feeling better today?

Ezra replied.

I... I'm afraid we have some bad news about Vin, Larabee said hesitantly.  There was a fire at that old shoe factory and... well, we think Vin might be one of the victims.

Ezra stared at him as he searched the man's face for any signs of deceit.  He found none.  An icy hand seemed to close around his heart, sending a shudder rippling through him.  It wasn't possible.  Vin couldn't be dead.  He would know, wouldn't he?

Wilmington said, moving up on his other side.  Kid?  You all right?

Vin is not deceased, Ezra said firmly, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.  He couldn't bring himself to say the word dead.'

I know it's hard to believe, but all the evidence is pointing in that direction, Larabee said gently.  

Ezra looked at him.  The man seemed genuinely disturbed by the thought of Vin's death, something he had not expected to see in a man who barely knew his friend.  But it could still be a trick to induce him into divulging information.  Turning away, Ezra said, I will not believe any such thing.  I would know if something happened to Vin.

Why don't you tell us where you guys usually go? Wilmington suggested.  That way we can make sure?

His desire to find Vin was almost overwhelming, and Ezra couldn't deny he was tempted to tell the agents where they were living, but he had not survived as long as he had by making impulsive decisions.  It would be torture, but he was going to wait until he could check for himself... or until Vin showed up on his own.  If Vin truly was dead – though he still refused to believe that – another day or two wouldn't hurt anybody.

If you gentlemen don't mind, I'd like to be alone, Ezra said softly, turning away from them.

Larabee stared at him for a moment, then turned to Wilmington and nodded toward the door.  He paused by the bed, waiting until Ezra looked him in the eye.  We'll be back later, Ezra.

Ezra said nothing as the two men left his room.  Once he was alone, he allowed himself to loosen the tight rein he had been holding on his emotions.  A shudder ran through him and he clenched his fists tightly to stop the shaking.  His eyes burned but he refused to cry.  Vin just couldn't be dead; he had promised they would stick together, just like brothers.  An errant tear slid down his cheek.  _He promised._

* * * * * * * * * *

God, I hate doing that, Chris said, slumping against the wall.

It doesn't get any easier, does it, Buck agreed.

Did you see the look on his face? Chris continued.  He was trying so hard to act like it didn't bother him, but I could see it in his eyes.  The kid's devastated.

I know, Buck said with a sigh.  He's got a hell of a poker face, though.  If we hadn't been looking for it, we probably wouldn't have seen it.

Chris said.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, Buck asked, So what now?

Chris blew out a breath.  We'll leave him alone for a while, give him time to deal with it.  I think he probably knows something about Digger, but he's not likely to be cooperative just yet.

Can't say I'd blame him, Buck said with a soft snort.  Ain't been the best couple of days for the poor kid.

Chris nodded silently, looking back toward the door to the hospital room with a sympathetic expression.

Come on, Buck said quietly.  I'll buy you a cup of coffee.

The two men walked quietly down the hallway toward the cafeteria.

* * * * * * * * * *

They were still there.  Vin dropped the corner of the curtain angrily and resumed pacing the small basement room.  When he had awakened that morning, ready to head out to the diner, he found that Leo Jones and some of his cronies had apparently decided to hang out in the alley outside his apartment today.  If not for his usual precaution of checking out the window before opening the door, he would have walked right into the middle of them.

After two hours, he had given up on the hope that they might leave soon and had resigned himself to spending the day inside the apartment.  Still, Vin couldn't help checking every few minutes, hoping that they might have departed.  Unfortunately, they had continued to loiter nearby, except for a short period late in the morning when most of them had disappeared for about an hour.  He had contemplated making a break for it then, but there were still three of the boys – each outweighing him by at least thirty pounds – who remained behind.

It was killing him to be stuck here while Ezra was alone and sick in the hospital, but there was too much to lose if MacDermott's friends found out where he and Ezra lived... not to mention the beating he would probably receive at their hands if they caught him again.  Vin sighed in resignation, flopping back onto the mattress.  His thoughts drifted to Ezra.  His friend always worried about him when he was late, and he hoped he wouldn't be too distressed over his absence this time.  

It was an odd feeling, having someone worrying about him.  It had been a long time since anyone had bothered, and Vin found he rather enjoyed it.  He imagined it was the same kind of feeling that real brothers would share, hence his claiming of Ezra as his family.  The other boy, having little experience with family, had been stunned the first time Vin called him brother,' but had eventually come to accept it, and even welcome it... though he'd never admit it.  

Unfortunately, the teenagers outside his door were keeping him from his brother today.  Vin muttered another frustrated curse.  What the hell were those assholes doing in his neighborhood anyway?  It was a good distance from their usual hangouts and the residents of this area had made it clear that the drug dealing gang was not welcome in their neighborhood.  He was surprised, in fact, that no one had yet called the police to clear them out.

Vin decided to make the best of his enforced confinement and pulled out the history book he had been reading at the hospital.  If he couldn't go anywhere, he might as well make good use of his time.  He still had enough food left for a meal or two, so he wouldn't need to leave for a while.  Ezra would understand, especially once he explained the situation.  

* * * * * * * * * *

It was the middle of the night and Ezra was again wide awake.  His sleep had been fitful that night, his mind churning with nightmare images of Vin and fire.  Larabee had returned to his room at one point, earlier in the evening, but now he was alone again with his turbulent thoughts.  His insides twisted every time he thought about Vin being killed in such a heinous and painful manner, allowing him no peace in his slumber.

The agitation finally became too much and Ezra carefully sat up in his bed, holding his injured ribs tightly.  The nurses had removed his IV lines earlier that day, deeming him capable of taking oral antibiotics, so he was now only encumbered by the oxygen mask on his face.  Sliding the mask off, he eased himself gently out of the bed, taking a moment to steady his wobbly legs before walking slowly toward the closet.  Vin had hung his clothes in there when he had been admitted and Ezra was greatly relieved to discover that they had not been removed.

Ezra dressed as quickly as his aching body would allow and then reached for the door.  After checking that the hallway was clear, he slipped out of the room and headed for the closest elevator.  He was fully aware that he was not really well enough to leave, but he knew he would not be able to rest until he was certain of Vin's fate.  

Exiting the elevator, Ezra made his way outside without incident.  There were no taxis nearby, so he started walking.  The night air was cool and he pulled his jacket tighter around himself to ward off the chill.  He didn't pay much notice to his surroundings as he walked slowly toward home, thinking – dreading – what he might find when he got there.  What if he arrived at home to find it was empty?  What would he do then?  Shaking those thoughts away, Ezra concentrated solely on putting one foot in front of the other.  He would have his answers soon enough.

* * * * * * * * * *

A thud and a muffled curse brought Vin fully awake within seconds.  He held his breath and waited, his heart pounding wildly, until he heard an odd shuffling noise coming from an area near the door.  Launching himself from his bed, Vin tackled the intruder, sending both of them crashing to the concrete floor.  A loud yelp and a spate of coughing had him running for the lamp.

he said incredulously when he recognized his friend's prone form on the floor.

Ezra answered between coughs.

What the hell are you doin' here? Vin shouted.  You're supposed to be in the hospital.  He hurried over to the other boy, pulling him to his feet and gripped his shoulders tightly.  Jesus, you nearly gave me a heart attack.

Ezra gave him a goofy grin.    His eyes were suspiciously bright as he grabbed his friend, pulling him into a tight hug.

  Vin squirmed, trying to extricate himself from his Ezra's grasp.  What's the matter with you?

You're here, Ezra croaked, loosening his hold slightly.  I knew you would be.

'Course I'm here. Vin looked at Ezra as if he had lost his mind.  Question is, what are _you_ doin' here?

Ezra stumbled toward the table, sinking down into a chair with a sigh.  They said you were dead.  I couldn't sleep so I... I just had to know.  You weren't there and...

It's okay, Ez. Vin pulled a chair closer and sat next to Ezra.  I'm right here. 

Ezra apologized, embarrassed by his lack of composure.  You weren't there and I just had to make sure you were okay.

Hell, I'm sorry, Ez, Vin said.  I wanted to get back to the hospital, but Jones an' his bunch were campin' out in the alley outside.  I couldn't get out without runnin' into 

I told them you weren't dead.

Who said I was dead? A bad feeling suddenly flared in Vin's chest.  Who would say something so horrible to his friend?  And why?

Larabee and Wilmington, Ezra explained, unable to hide the faint tremor in his voice.  They said you were burned up in a fire at the old factory this morning.  They seemed rather upset about it.

Vin pondered the information.  I wonder what happened?

They said there was a fight beforehand, Ezra continued.  You weren't at the hospital today as they expected, and we did have that earlier altercation with MacDermott's associates.  They were convinced that you were somehow involved with what occurred.

Well I was right here all day, Vin stated.  Some of those jerks took off for a while this morning, though.  Bet you anything they were part of it.

I expect you are correct in that assumption. Ezra suddenly doubled over and started coughing again.

We gotta get you back to the hospital. Vin gave his stricken friend a worried look.  

Ezra gasped.  

Ez, you're too sick to stay here, Vin tried to reason with his friend.  You need to be in the hospital.

Ezra said weakly.  They won't find us here.  He started coughing again while Vin rubbed his back, trying to ease the spasms in his back muscles.

Vin studied his friend, noting the signs of exhaustion and pain in his face.  It was late and he didn't think it would be beneficial to force Ezra back into the cool night air, so he urged his weary brother over to the bed.

We'll stay here tonight, Vin said, removing his stubborn friend's shoes.  He could bring him back to the hospital in the morning.

Ezra nodded, fumbling to remove his coat.

Here, take some of this. Vin handed him the bottle of cough medicine, then turned on the space heater.

Thank you, Ezra said hoarsely.

Vin smiled at him with fond exasperation.  No problem, Ez.

Ezra fell asleep quickly, much to his relief.  Vin checked outside for any sign of the gang that had kept him inside all day and then locked the door securely behind him, satisfied the reprobates had moved on.  He returned to the bed and frowned as he studied his sleeping friend's haggard face.  He was definitely going to have a talk with Larabee and his pals in the morning.  It pissed him off that they had upset Ezra enough to drive him out of the hospital in search of the truth.  His friend was sick enough without them adding to it, especially when it was none of their concern.  They didn't need any ATF busybodies butting into their business.  That decided, Vin lay beside his best friend, vowing to watch over him like a brother should.

* * * * * * * * * *

Chris hung up the phone and pinched the bridge of his nose.  

Buck, sitting across from his desk, gave him a quizzical look.  What's up?

That was the hospital, Chris said flatly.  Standish is gone.

Buck paled.  Gone? As in... dead?

Chris said quickly.  Gone as in disappeared.  He apparently took off sometime during the night.

Shit.  Guess we shouldn't have told him about Vin.

I didn't figure he'd do something like this, Chris said with a sigh.  Damn kid's as slippery as Tanner was.

We gonna try to find him?

  Chris gave his friend a look.  He's sick.  I want to find him before he gets any worse.

And you still want to find out what he knows about Digger.

Hell, Buck. Chris ran an angry hand through his hair.  It's my fault the kid took off.  All I care about right now is getting him back under a doctor's care where he belongs.

Buck lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender.  I just wanted to be sure we were on the same page, is all.

I'm going to head back down to the fire site, Chris stated.  See what I can find out.

I'll call Bill Hawthorne over at the PD, Buck offered.  See if they have anything on the fire.

Thanks, Buck.

You gonna be okay there?

Chris gave his old friend a wan smile, appreciating his concern.  Fire scenes were not his favorite thing, but this was something he needed to do. I'll be fine.

Okay.  I'll let you know what I find out.  Buck left the office with a wave and Chris once again thanked whatever powers had blessed him with such a steadfast friend.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra woke slowly, breathing hard as the last vestiges of his nightmare faded.  He felt his breath catch as a cough threatened and forced himself to slow his breathing, hoping to forestall another painful episode.  A hand dropped onto his shoulder and he turned to see Vin watching him closely.  

You doin' okay?

Ezra replied. 

You sure bout that? Vin asked.  You don't sound so good and you're still awfully warm.

I'm fine, Vin, Ezra replied hoarsely.  I merely had an unsettling dream.

You reckon you're up for some breakfast?

I believe I could eat something, Ezra said with a nod.

We'll go by Rosie's before we head back to the hospital.

I feel fine, Vin, Ezra insisted.  I do not need to return to the hospital.

Ezra, you almost died cause you couldn't breathe. Vin gripped Ezra's arm pleadingly.  I want you to get well.

Recognizing the anxiety in Vin's eyes, Ezra lowered his head remorsefully.  I'm sorry to have caused you to worry.  I will return to the hospital after we partake of our morning repast.

Damn, Ez, Vin said with a chuckle.  You must be feelin' a little better if you can talk like that.

Giving him a rueful smile, Ezra said, I do feel somewhat better.

Good.  Now let's go get breakfast. Vin slapped him gently on the back, returning the smile.  I'm hungry.

You're always hungry, Ezra grumbled good-naturedly as he pulled on his clothes.

The two boys dressed quickly and were soon on their way to the diner.  

Rosie greeted them with hugs when they came through the door, dragging them to seats at the counter before they could utter a word.  You boys sit right there.  She bustled back into the kitchen, leaving them sitting silently at the counter.

Guess she told us, Vin said with a short laugh.

Ezra covered his mouth to contain a burst of coughing, but he nodded in agreement.

You sound like you should still be in the hospital, Rosie said, returning with two cups of hot chocolate.  

He's goin' back there right after we have breakfast, Vin said, pulling out some money.

You put that away, Vin Tanner, Rosie said sternly, pushing the money away and looking offended.  You boys know your money is no good here.

Yes, ma'am.  Vin stuffed the bills back into his pocket, appropriately chagrined.

Rosie nodded and went back into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with plates of eggs for both of them.  Eat up, now.  You boys look like you could use a decent meal.

Yes, ma'am, Ezra said in his rough voice.

Rosie looked at him sternly.  What are you doing out of the hospital, anyway, young man?  Last I heard you were pretty darn sick.

Vin answered for him.  He was worried about me.  Someone told im I was dead in that fire at the old factory over on Shaw St.

Who would do a thing like that? 

Vin explained all that had occurred in the last few days.

Damn fools, Rosie grumbled.  Someone should slap those agents upside the head.

Vin snorted and Ezra nearly choked on his eggs at the thought of Rosie taking on the men from the ATF.  It would certainly be a sight to behold.

  
Rosie fussed over them until they finished eating, then insisted they take a bag of doughnuts with them for later, claiming,  That hospital food ain't fit to feed a dog most of the time.

Thank you, Mrs. Milburn, Ezra said.

You take care of yourself, Ezra, Rosie admonished.  Do what the doctors tell you and get well, you hear?

Don't worry, Miz Rosie, Vin said.  I'll make sure he does what he's told.

Ezra glared at Vin as his friend guided him outside, Rosie's laughter following them out the door.

I'll call us a cab. Vin made his way toward a pay phone on the corner.

I don't think that will be necessary, Ezra said softly.

Vin turned to Ezra, following his friend's gaze toward the street, where the reason for his statement became apparent.  Heading toward them at a rapid clip was a black truck with a familiar face behind the wheel.

* * * * * * * * * *

Chris could hardly believe it.  He had not really expected to find the Standish kid so soon.  This was only his first pass through the area, and yet, there he was, standing nonchalantly on the corner.  And to top it off, a very much alive Vin Tanner was with him.  He made a quick U-turn, ignoring the horns being sounded at him by irate drivers.  Pulling the big truck up to the curb, he jumped out and ran toward the two boys, who stood calmly watching him.

Standing in front of them, he put a firm hand on each of their shoulders.  Damn, you boys had us worried.  He turned to Vin, a grin slowly forming on his face.  Thought you were history, kid.  Then, to Ezra, And you.  What were you thinking, taking off from the hospital like that?

Vin pulled away from him angrily.  You should know, you're the one who made im leave.  Why the hell did ya tell im I was dead? 

We thought you were one of the victims in that fire, Chris explained.  You hadn't turned up anywhere else.  He shrugged.  

Hey, what are you doing to my boys? a voice shouted from behind them.

Chris whirled around, his eyes widening in surprise at the stocky woman striding toward him angrily, waving a sturdy broom.

It's okay, Miz Rosie, Vin said.  He ain't hurtin' us.  He's givin' us a ride back to the hospital.

You don't have to go with him, if you don't want to, boys, Rosie said, glaring at Chris.

It's quite all right, Mrs. Milburn, Ezra said.  Mr. Larabee means us no harm.

You the man who took our Vin away? Rosie's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Yes ma'am, Chris replied uncertainly.  I'm just trying to help, that's all.

Hmmph!  We'll see about that.  Rosie turned to the two boys.  You sure you want to go with him?

Yes, ma'am, Vin said.  We'll be okay, don't worry.

She favored Chris with a scathing glare.  All right, but I'll be checking up on you.

Chris nodded at her, watching bemusedly as the woman stalked back into the diner.

It started as a chuckle, and soon turned into full-blown laughter.  Vin and Ezra were clutching their aching ribs as they laughed at him.

Chris couldn't help but smile at the sight.  You think that's funny, huh?

Damn straight, Vin replied between laughs.

Their laughter stopped short when Ezra suddenly started coughing again.  Chris quickly ushered the two boys into the truck, frowning in concern as he watched the stricken southerner gasp for breath.  After making sure their seat belts were fastened, Chris pulled into the lane of traffic and sped toward the hospital.  

**

TBC 

**

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**Mean Streets**

**Part 10**

* * *

* * * * * * * * * * 

How's he doin'? Buck asked as he entered the hospital room.

Not too bad, considering, Chris said.  Sounds terrible, though.

Buck chuckled at the green-eyed glare being aimed at them from the bed.  Shaking his head, he made his way toward Vin, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.  You're a sight for sore eyes, too, kid.  We thought you were a goner.

Vin shrugged off the hand and moved closer to Ezra.

Buck gave Chris a sideways look.

Seems Vin's a little pissed at us for telling Ezra he was dead, Chris explained quietly.

Can't blame him there, Buck said with a grin.

Et tu, Buck?

Call em as I see Buck said, winking at Vin and Ezra.

I give up, Chris huffed, flopping into a chair.

So who's this Rosie person who told off the big dog over there? Buck asked eagerly.  I want all the dirt.

Me an' Ez work for her at her diner every mornin', Vin said.  She pays us a little and makes us really great breakfast every day.

She sounds like nice lady.

She is. Vin gave him a sly grin.  You just gotta watch out for her broom.

Buck laughed.  I'll keep that in mind.

So where were you yesterday, Vin? Chris asked, hoping to change the subject.  We figured you'd be here with Ezra.

Vin looked at Ezra, unsure of how much information he should share with them.  He was starting to feel entirely too comfortable in their company, and that worried him.  Ezra nodded, sending him a look that said, _what could it hurt?_

I was gonna come, but MacDermott's boys were hangin' out near where I was stayin', Vin began.  Didn't feel like gettin' beat up again, so I stayed there.

They give you any trouble today? Buck asked.

Vin replied.  They moved on.

Ezra pulled on Vin's sleeve and whispered,   The doctor had forbidden him to talk, wanting him to rest his throat and avoid the respiratory stress of speaking.

I think maybe they had somethin' to do with that fire, Vin said.  Most of em took off late yesterday mornin – round ten o'clock or so.

Why didn't you leave? Chris inquired.

Three of em stayed behind, and they were all bigger n me.  He gave Chris a sideways look.  Couldn't even the odds, since you took my bat.

Good reason, Buck said.  He turned to Chris.  Kid's got common sense.

Ez said you told him the fire happened in the morning. Vin shrugged.  That building's their usual hangout, so it figures they'd have somethin' to do with it.

Like they had something to do with Digger? Chris raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

Vin glared at him and Ezra shrank into his pillows.

Buck warned.  Take it easy.

Chris apologized, slumping back into his chair.  I just want to get whoever killed him.

Dog with a bone, Buck muttered, heaving a melodramatic sigh.  The things I have to put up with.

Ezra shared a long look with Vin, then turned to Chris.  Mr. Larabee.

Vin took over, saying simply,  MacDermott killed Digger.    

You said that before, Chris reminded him.

Ez saw him do it, Vin added.

Buck and Chris immediately came to attention.

Is that so? Chris looked at Ezra, who nodded grimly.

That's a whole nother ball o' wax, ain't it? Buck commented.

You willin' to testify? Chris asked, doubting that would be the case.

Ezra and Vin looked at each other again, then Ezra nodded slowly.

Why'd he kill him? Buck asked.  Digger ain't never been one to inspire violence.

Vin sighed.  Ez said he was drunk when he came in.  He... he interrupted what MacDermott was doin'.

Chris and Buck both looked to Ezra, who turned away and refused to meet their eyes.

Vin squeezed his friend's shoulder supportively.  Digger started tellin' him off; said something about guns he was keeping in an old grocery store. Vin shrugged.  Guess MacDermott didn't like that, cause he pulled out a gun and shot him.

What happened to the gun? Chris asked.  We didn't find one on him.

Vin shook his head in puzzlement.

One of his minions disposed of it, Ezra said softly.

Guess we know why Digger called you, Buck remarked to Chris.

You know what old grocery store he was talking about? Chris looked inquiringly at both boys.

Ezra and Vin both nodded.

You willing to show it to us? Chris asked Vin.

Vin said.

Chris gave him a feral smile.  Good.  We'll just go see what MacDermott and his little friends have been up to.

Then we nail his ass to the wall, Buck said, sounding equally determined.

* * * * * * * * * *

Vin looked at the men around him, glad they were on his side.  Each of them, even the young guy, JD, wore a dangerous expression, and Vin almost had pity for anyone who crossed them.  After he and Ezra had given him the information about MacDermott, Larabee had sprung immediately into action, calling in his men and formulating a plan of attack.  It was impressive how quickly they had pulled it all together, and Vin felt a growing admiration for these men.  He had led them to the old grocery store – a dilapidated structure that had succumbed to fire years earlier – and now sat in the van, watching as they and a second ATF team surrounded the building.

Jones and his boys were inside the old store and were taken completely by surprise when the agents burst into the building.  Vin laughed aloud at the disgusted expressions they sported as they were marched outside and into the waiting transport vehicles.  He was still grinning when Larabee returned to the van.

You look awfully pleased about this, Larabee remarked as he started unstrapping his bulletproof vest.

Vin replied happily.  Good to see them bastards gettin' what they deserve.

Well, it was all thanks to you and Ezra, Larabee said gratefully.  They would have gotten away with selling a lot of dangerous hardware if you two hadn't told us about this.

Vin lowered his head, uncomfortable with the gratitude he could hear in Larabee's voice. Ain't no big deal.

It's a very big deal, Vin, Larabee said, after Vin finally met his gaze.  Guns like these can cause a lot of problems if they hit the streets.  I don't know about you, but I don't like the thought of street thugs getting their hands on automatic weapons and using em to rob people like your friend Rosie.

Vin nodded, finding he couldn't disagree.

We have to get these guys processed, so I'll drop you off at the hospital, okay?

Will you be there later?

Vin contemplated that for a minute, then nodded.

  Larabee slapped him on the back.  I'll bring some dinner.  You like Chinese?

* * * * * * * * * *

Vin was reading quietly in the chair by his bed when he awoke, and Ezra cursed himself inwardly for missing his friend's return.  He would be glad when he was well again and could stay awake for more than a couple of hours at a time.  

Vin seemed to sense he was awake and immediately shut his book and put it aside.  

Everything went well? Ezra asked quietly. 

Oh yeah, Vin said cheerfully.  You should'a seen it, Ez.  Jones and the rest of MacDermott's crew were in there with a shitload of guns.  Larabee and his guys busted all their asses.

Ezra smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having done something to put MacDermott and his gang out of business.

I'm kind of glad we told them about the guns, Vin said, mirroring Ezra's thoughts.  It was so cool seein' all those assholes in handcuffs.

Ezra nodded in agreement, wishing he could have been there.

Larabee said he'd be bringin' some Chinese food for dinner, Vin continued.

Frowning, Ezra tugged on his sleeve, shaking his head.

You have to go, Ezra said hoarsely.  Stay out of the system.

Ezra shook his head again.  Bad enough one of us gets put back there.

I ain't leavin', Ez.  Vin held up a hand to forestall Ezra's protests.  We're brothers, remember?  Whatever happens, we do it together.  

Ezra sighed, hating the thought of them both ending up back in foster care.  Neither one of them had a good track record with it, and they were loath to subject themselves to the vagaries of Social Services yet again. 

I mean it, Ez, Vin said earnestly.  Even if they put us in different places, we can always get away and meet up at home again.

Ezra looked at him hopefully.  Would you do that?

Vin said dismissively.

What if they put you someplace nice? Ezra asked softly, then immediately regretted it.  He hated sounding so pathetic and needy, but he had finally found a friend for the first time in his life, and did not want to lose him.  It irritated him to no end that their lives were subject to the whims of some overworked bureaucrat who sat in an office and didn't know them from a hole in the wall.  He knew there were some genuinely caring people working in Social Services, but he and Vin had never had the good fortune to meet any of them.  Most of those underpaid civil servants, especially the good ones, had huge case loads, so it was no wonder that some kids got lost in the shuffle.

Don't matter, Vin said, sensing his friend's distress. I already have a family.  Don't want another one.

He looked at Ezra thoughtfully.  Would you leave a good place?

Ezra nodded without hesitation.

Startled, Ezra stared at his friend for a moment, then said shyly, I have all the family I need, too.

Vin grinned at him.  So, it's a plan, then.  He stuck his hand out and he and Ezra shook on it.

* * * * * * * * * *

Outside the door, Chris leaned against the wall, lowering his head as he tried to process what he had heard.  He had not meant to eavesdrop, but when he heard voices coming from the room, he stopped beside the open door to let them finish before he intruded.  What he heard, however, stunned him.  The fact that these boys would rather live together on the streets than separately in good foster homes told him volumes about the strength of their friendship.  It also told him how little they trusted in the system that was supposed to take care of them.  

The conversation in the room appeared to be finished, so, pushing off of the wall, Chris forced a smile onto his face and stepped into the doorway.  Anybody hungry?

Vin is always hungry, Ezra said, eyeing the bags Chris was carrying.

I thought you weren't supposed to talk? Chris said, arching an eyebrow at the boy.

Ezra rolled his eyes at him and Vin laughed while Chris pulled out the cardboard containers and set them on the rolling table at the end of the bed.  Paper plates, plastic utensils, and cans of soda soon followed.

Dig in, Chris said, scooping out a healthy portion of chow mein for himself.

Vin looked at the containers, dishing out a little of everything for himself, and some sesame chicken for Ezra, who bypassed the plastic forks in favor of the chopsticks he and Chris had ignored.

Chris was impressed by the dexterity the young southerner displayed, manipulating the chopsticks as though he had been doing it all his life.  You're pretty good with those things, he commented aloud.

Ezra shrugged, gracefully taking another bite.

So Ezra, did Vin tell you about the bust? 

Ezra nodded.

Thanks to you two, we got more than five dozen guns off the streets, Chris said.

Yeah, along with a bunch of scumbags, Vin added smugly.  We definitely ain't gonna miss those bastards.

You boys did good, Chris reiterated, determined to make sure they knew how valued their contributions had been.

Vin said quietly.  

Chris stifled a laugh as both boys flushed with embarrassment and concentrated more intently on their food.  The three of them finished their dinner with minimal conversation, laughing when Ezra gleefully, yet politely, refused his usual hospital meal.  After they were done, Chris cleaned up while Vin and Ezra flipped through the channels on the television.  Familiar music caught his attention and Chris realized that _Star Wars_ was showing on one of the channels.

Hey, Ez, Vin said.  Have you ever seen this?

Ezra nodded.  Mother only allowed me to watch educational television, but I saw it once at my uncle's house.

Mr. Larabee had this on tape at his house, Vin explained.

It's Chris', remember, Chris reminded him.

Yeah... Chris, Vin said hesitantly.

While the boys watched the rest of the movie, Chris watched them.  The strength of their friendship was evident in the silent way they communicated, saying more with their eyes and gestures than many did with words.  Also obvious was the wariness that flared every time someone walked past the open doorway.  It troubled him that kids their age had been forced to learn such traits.

The movie was over and Chris decided it was time to head for home.  Tossing a sideways glance at Vin, he said, I'm headin' out now.  I'd feel better if you'd come out to the ranch with me tonight, Vin.

Ezra looked at Vin, a flat expression on his face.  

Vin met his gaze and smiled, then turned a resolute blue-eyed gaze toward Chris.  Sorry, sir, but I want to stay here with Ez.

Visiting hours are over at eight, Chris pointed out.  They won't let you stay after that.

I know, Vin said.  But I got some jobs I have to do.  I missed a lot of work already this week, so I need to do some catchin' up.  Sides, I promised to tell everyone how Ez is doin'.

Chris pursed his lips and stared at him thoughtfully.  I could make you go.  I am your legal guardian at the moment, you know.

Both boys stiffened and Chris was hard pressed not to laugh at the twin glares being fired in his direction.  

Chris continued, I won't do that as long as you promise to be here again tomorrow.

Vin looked to Ezra, who, after staring hard at Chris, nodded to him.

Vin agreed.

I'll see you then, Chris said, nodding at them before leaving the room.  

Vin had done just as Chris had expected after overhearing their earlier conversation.  In a way, he admired the boy for sticking to his principles so vehemently.  He had seen the flicker of doubt on Ezra's face when he had asked Vin to come home with him.  From what he had seen in the boy's file, Ezra was used to being abandoned and probably could not help but expect it, even from his closest friend.  Both of them had lived a life fraught with pain and betrayal, so it was no surprise that their trust had to be earned.  Chris wondered if he would ever be deemed worthy of that trust... and why it bothered him so much not to have it.  

* * * * * * * * * *

What did Travis have to say? Buck asked when Chris entered their office.

He's very pleased about the MacDermott case, Chris replied, a hint of a smile lighting his face.  Jones gave up MacDermott's supplier, hoping to get a break on their sentence.

How likely is that? asked Nathan.

Not very. Chris snorted.  One of the others fingered Jones for the fire.  Apparently, MacDermott's crew was fighting amongst themselves over who was going to take over now that their boss was in jail.  Jones decided to eliminate the competition.

Buck said, shaking his head. 

I'm glad we could get the whole pack of them off the street, JD said.

Amen, brother, Josiah agreed.

We have a new case to start, too, Chris continued.  So, don't get too comfortable resting on your laurels.

My laurels need the rest, Buck said with a smirk. I had a very strenuous night.  Denise is a real...

Save it, Buck, Chris interrupted with a long-suffering sigh.  He handed his old friend some paperwork.  Take a look at these files and start getting ready.

Yeah, yeah, Buck said, disappointed that his friend didn't rise to the bait.

I'm going to run by the hospital for a bit, Chris stated.

Mind if I go with you, Chris? JD asked.  

  Chris grabbed his jacket and started down the hall, JD following on his heels.

Tell em we said hi, Buck called after them.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra was alone in the room, playing solitaire on his tray table, when Chris and JD entered.

Hi Ezra, JD said cheerfully.  You look better than last time I saw you.

A sarcastically arched eyebrow was Ezra's only response.

You feeling better today? Chris asked, shrugging out of his jacket.

Ezra replied in a soft voice that wasn't as rough as it had been the day before. 

That's good.  Chris looked around the room.  Where's Vin?

He went to purchase a beverage, Ezra replied, not looking up from his cards.

JD looked at Chris, who shrugged helplessly.  He didn't know what was causing the boy's less-than-social behavior.

Ezra stared at his cards for a few minutes, then sighed and gathered them up, apparently giving up on his game.  The two agents watched in awe as the young man proceeded to shuffle the cards with blinding speed.

Hey, that's cool, Ezra, JD said, impressed with the teenager's ability with the cards.  Where'd you learn to do that.

My mother taught me, Ezra replied blandly.

Can you show me how to do it?

Ezra's eyes widened in surprise at the request, but then he nodded slowly.  

Chris settled into a chair and watched Ezra attempt to teach JD how to shuffle the deck of cards.  It was an entertaining sight, since his agent did not seem to have the same level of dexterity as the teenager and spent most of his time picking cards up off of the floor.  

This isn't as easy as it looks, JD grumbled, tossing his amused boss a dirty look.

I know it isn't, Chris said with a smirk.

JD tried another complicated shuffle – one that Ezra had executed effortlessly – and sent the entire deck of cards flying through the air.  The cardboard squares were still floating to the floor when Vin walked into the room carrying two bottles of soda.  

Vin grinned broadly.  Ez teaching you to shuffle?

JD said with a sheepish sigh.

Ezra grinned at him smugly, accepting the soda Vin offered to him.

Show off. Vin chuckled and sat down next to the bed.

I heard you were pretty good with the cards, Chris commented.  Got picked up for gambling once or twice?  He waited, wondering what reaction his statement would produce.

Ezra stiffened uncertainly, looking to Vin for support.

Ain't easy for a kid to make enough money to survive, Vin said in a grim voice, favoring Chris with a look that told of one who had seen far too much in his young life.  

Gambling is preferable to most of the alternatives, Ezra added matter-of-factly.

A horrified look crossed JD's face, but Chris nodded knowingly.  There weren't many choices on the streets, especially for kids their age.  You're right about that.  He was pleased to see the tension in their thin frames ease slightly.

Would you gentlemen care for a game of chance? Ezra asked politely, a hint of challenge in his voice.

Chris grinned.  Don't mind if I do.

Deal me in, JD said confidently.

With an elegant flourish, Ezra dealt out a hand.

* * * * * * * * * *

I'm out, JD said disgustedly, tossing his cards on the table.

Having already folded, Vin leaned back on his elbows, watching the last two players from his seat on the foot of Ezra's bed.  Larabee was a decent player, but Ezra was better.  Grinning, he watched his best friend prepare to take the blond agent down.

I call, Larabee said calmly, studying Ezra over the edge of his cards.

Ezra's face, passive throughout the game, lit up with a dimpled smile.  Straight flush.  He spread his cards on the table in front of him.

Beats my two pair. Larabee sighed, acknowledging defeat.  

Good job, Ez, Vin said, pleased that his friend had made such a good showing against the two agents.

You're pretty good at this, JD said.  Who taught you to play?

My mother, Ezra answered, averting his eyes.

Larabee said doubtfully.

Ezra replied.  Mother made a rather good living at the poker tables.

Vin watched the two agents' faces, understanding their skepticism.  It had been hard for him to grasp, as well.  His memories of his mom were difficult to reconcile with Ezra's description of his mother.  In his mind, mother' meant hugs, cookies, and soft-voiced comfort – not the gambling lessons, poker chips, and emotional blackmail that had been Ezra's experience.  After everything he had seen and heard in his life, Vin still found it hard to understand how any mother could simply dump her own child the way Ezra's mother had done.  Finding out the other boy had been abandoned had gone a long way toward helping Vin to understand his friend. 

Hey, we'd better get back to work, Chris, JD said, sensing a need to change the subject.

Larabee glanced at his watch and grunted.  You're right.  We've taken too long a lunch break already.

JD chuckled.  Buck's probably taking advantage of it to go and sweet talk the new clerk in the file room.

Smirking, Larabee replied, We better get back there and rescue her.  He looked over at the two boys.  I'll see you two later?

Vin nodded, meeting the agent's expectant gaze.  Larabee smiled, and then followed JD out the door.

Somethin' wrong, Ez? Vin asked, noting the faraway look on his friend's face.

Ezra shrugged.  I am just contemplating what will happen once I am released from this facility.  It is unlikely that Mr. Larabee will leave us to our own devices, and I'm concerned as to where we will be forced to go.  I doubt they will simply allow us to return to our lives, now that we have come to their attention.

Vin frowned.  Dunno, Ez.  Larabee is a decent guy.  Maybe we can ask him to work somethin' out for us?

Ezra said, doubt evident in his voice.  

Don't worry, Ez, Vin said confidently.  Everything will be fine, you'll see.

Ezra nodded at him, but Vin could see that he was still uncertain.  After all they had been through lately, it was understandable that he would be reluctant to trust in a positive outcome.  Vin wasn't entirely certain himself, but he didn't want to worry his friend.  Ezra had enough on his plate already.  

Have you finished those history chapters? Ezra asked, trying to distract himself from thoughts of their eventual fate.

Vin said proudly.  Finished chapter three last night.

Good lord, Ezra moaned.  At this rate, you will surpass me.

Sitting up straighter, Vin favored his friend with a grin.  Ain't too often I can outdo you in school work.

Enjoy it now, my friend.  As soon as I am out of this place, I will leave you in the dust.

Vin laughed, knowing his friend was teasing him.  In truth, he was glad that Ezra was comfortable enough to pick on him.  It had taken a long time before the guarded southerner relaxed enough to participate in any kind of brotherly joking or horseplay.  To be fair, Vin himself had rarely let down his guard to that point either, but he and Ezra had forged a bond built equally on shared hardships and triumphs, and it had become natural to think of the other boy as his brother and to treat him as such.  That Ezra felt the same way made it even better.

Gazing fondly at his friend, Vin said, Lookin' forward to it, Ez.

Grinning, Ezra dealt out another hand of cards and the two boys settled in to play, pushing their fears away for a little while.  There would be plenty of time for worry later.

* * * * * * * * * *

A grin spread across Buck's face as he stood in the doorway to Chris's office, watching as his friend stared out the window, absently twirling a pencil in his fingers.  If he had not known the other man so well, he would have assumed that there was something of interest out the window that had captured his attention, but to Buck, it was apparent from the look on his friend's face that his thoughts were elsewhere.  Shaking his head, he stepped further into the room.

Earth to Larabee.

Chris jumped, dropping the pencil in surprise at Buck's interruption of his ruminations.  Dammit, Buck.

Buck rolled his eyes, the grin still firmly in place.  Ya know, with as many times as you've said that, maybe I should change my name to Dammit Buck'.

Smart ass, Chris growled.  What do you want?

Buck's demeanor changed and he said in a serious tone,  You were thinkin' about them boys again, weren't ya?  

Chris opened his mouth to deny it, then sighed and admitted, Yeah.  Been thinking about a lot of things.

You taking them to your place?  Buck guessed.

Shooting him a dirty look, Chris said, 

Buck snorted.  Don't give me that, Chris.  I've seen the look on your face whenever you talk about them.

Chris glared at him for a minute, then slumped back into his chair, running a frustrated hand through his hair.  I just don't know if I'm doing the right thing.  Travis already worked it out so both of em can come out to the ranch til MacDermott's trial, at least.

And, I'm not sure if it's the best thing for them.  Chris looked earnestly at Buck.  They're doin' pretty well on their own and I don't want to ruin things.  Besides, what can I possibly offer a couple of  teenage boys?

This, Buck sensed, was the heart of the problem.  For some reason Chris didn't understand, he wanted to help the two boys... but he was afraid.  After he had lost his wife and son, it had taken a long time before Chris had let anyone close to him.  He was still a bit uncomfortable around children, yet here he was, offering to take in not one, but two boys.  

Chris, have you thought about why it is that you want to help them? Buck asked softly.

Chris admitted.  And the answer is, I don't have a clue.

You said you saw something of yourself in Tanner, Buck began.  Maybe you're just ready to let someone into that heart of yours, and someone you can understand and empathize with is a good candidate.  Those two boys need someone to look out for them, regardless of how well they've been able to survive out there.  Maybe you want to help them simply because you can.  Buck shrugged.  Ain't nothin' wrong with wanting to help someone out of the goodness of your heart.

Chris snorted at that.

You forget, pard, I saw you with Sarah and Adam, Buck said gently – he knew he was treading on sensitive ground.  You might be Badass Larabee' to most folks, but I know you have a much bigger heart than you like to admit.  Maybe even big enough to open it up to a couple of stubborn teenagers who could use a little caring and kindness in their lives.

Chris pondered his words, then let out a sigh.  Aw hell.  There goes my reputation.

* * * * * * * * * *

The late morning sun streamed through the blinds, making patterns on the floor and illuminating dust motes that danced in the air.  Ezra sighed, then fidgeted in another attempt to sit comfortable on the edge of the bed.  His ribs hurt too much to allow him to slump, but sitting up straight was irritating the ache in his shoulder and back.  Looking at his watch, he frowned, wishing the doctor would hurry his promised return.  He had had enough of the hospital and was anxious to return to his home.

He'll be back in a few minutes, Ez, Vin assured him, grinning at his friend's agitation.

I do hope so, Ezra replied.  I would like to spend some time at the library today.

Vin frowned.  Don't know if that's such a good idea.  You still ain't up to doin' your regular stuff.

Ezra bit back a sarcastic retort, knowing his friend was right, but distinctly unhappy about it, just the same.  Sighing wearily, he said, I am extremely tired of being ill.

I hear ya, pard, Vin said with a sympathetic smile.

Both heads turned at the sudden entrance of Chris Larabee into the room.

Hey, guys, the agent said with a smile.  I hear you're getting out of here today, Ezra.

That is correct, Mr. Larabee, Ezra replied, trying not to show his surprise – or his dismay – at the blond man's presence.

The hospital called me this morning to let me know, Larabee explained.  I wanted to talk to you about what happens from here.

His stomach tightening, Ezra met Vin's gaze, exchanging silent reassurances with his friend.  They had discussed all the potential outcomes to their situation, and had formulated plans to deal with any that might occur, but it did not entirely dispel their worries.  They both had enough experience with situations suddenly turning bad to be entirely complacent.

I arranged it so that the both of you can stay with me, at least until MacDermott's trial, Larabee said, eyeing them expectantly.  It's up to you, but the alternative is whatever foster care Social Services can find.

How'd you manage that? Vin asked.  Social Services folks usually ain't too accommodatin'.

Larabee gave them a broad grin.  My boss used to be a judge – still has a lot of clout.

Vin gave Ezra a searching look, then turned to Larabee.  Can we talk about it first?

  Larabee stood and started for the door.  I'll go grab a cup of coffee and check on your release papers.  

Vin waited until he had disappeared out the door, before turning to Ezra.  So, what d'ya think?

Ezra pondered the question for a moment.  They had discussed the possibility, but did not expect it would actually happen, so they had not spent much time considering what to do if it did indeed become an option.  He asked tentatively, You said Larabee was... nice?

Vin said with a nod.  Him and the rest of his guys were pretty cool.  Treated me okay.

Ezra absently picked at the blanket on the bed as he considered Vin's answer.  You feel we would not be mistreated if we were to accept Mr. Larabee's offer?

He's a good guy, Vin said thoughtfully.  Can't explain it, but I just got a feelin' he cares... ya know what I mean?

Ezra nodded.  Vin was usually a good judge of character and his feelings had often proven true.  If Vin trusted Larabee, that was good enough for him.

Vin looked at him inquiringly.

Ezra gave him a weak smile.  I believe we should accept Mr. Larabee's offer.

Me too, Vin agreed.  Beats the hell out of Social Services or juvie.

I find it encouraging that he asked for our consent, Ezra said thoughtfully.  He could have simply demanded that we go with him.

Yeah, I noticed that.  Vin shrugged.  He's definitely not like any of the cops we're used to.

I'm not certain I'll enjoy this new living situation, Ezra said, a hint of doubt in his voice.

We'll still have our place to go back to if it don't work out.  Vin dangled his key to their apartment in front of his friend.  And Rosie and the others will help us if we need it.

Ezra allowed.  Things are much better here than anyplace else I've lived, and I don't wish to lose that.

You won't, Ez, Vin assured him.  I promise.

Ezra lowered his head, giving his friend an embarrassed nod.  The friendship and reassurance Vin offered warmed him inside and he wondered if that was what it felt like when someone cared about you.  If it was, Ezra decided he rather liked it.

A light knock on the door preceded Larabee's return.

Okay if I come in? Larabee asked, poking his head inside the room.  At Vin's nod, he continued inside.  Have you made a decision?

Ezra looked at him, surprised at the honest concern he found in the man's eyes.  Perhaps Vin's feelings were on target once again.

Vin answered, noticing his friend's preoccupation.  We decided to give it a try.

Larabee said with a grin.  I've got Ezra's paperwork and medication, if you guys are ready to blow this joint.

We are indeed, Mr. Larabee, Ezra replied.

In that case, Larabee said, escorting the two boys out the door,  let's go home.

**_finis_**

**NOTE: **I will be writing more in this AU, and have already started on the sequel, so stay tuned!

* * *


End file.
